Let My Soul Out
by bellaLife
Summary: Cat's careful world is turned upside down by the arrival of Vincent, a man from her past, from a time she has been trying to escape. He has the power to break her or put her back together. The only thing standing between them and what may be are the aftermath of a war, the loss of loved ones, and a killer seeking revenge. Can they save each other? Can they let their souls out?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: Beauty and The Beast (2012), and all its characters belong to the CW and the show's creators. I am jut an avid fan who loves twisting the stories around.**

**Any reproduction of this story, in whole or in part, is strictly prohibited without the author's written consent.**

* * *

**Let My Soul Out**

**Prologue**

"Outta the way! Outta the way!" she shouted from the confines of her Dodge Charger, the siren blaring, as she tried to manoeuver between traffic in the race to another crime scene. Didn't people get that the siren meant move or did they think it meant block the path every chance you get? She zipped out from behind a blue Mini Cooper and darted in front of the line of traffic that final go the point that they should stop and let her through. "Thank you!" her hand waved with momentary exasperation before grasping the wheel as her foot pressed down on the accelerator.

She'd gotten the call ten minutes ago, a body had been found in a dumpster on East Fourth and Avenue D. She'd been sitting at home contemplating calling her father for the first time in four months, but she never got around to it. The moment her phone rang, "PRECINCT" appearing on the display, she was already shoving her feet into her boots even before she answered. "Chandler? Yes, boss. Got it. I'll be right there." A moment later she was collecting her gun and badge from her bedside table, clipping the golden sign of authority to her belt as she marched her way to yet another murder. The phone rang from within the apartment as she stalked through the living room to collect her jacket and head out the door. She let the answering machine pick it up as she turned the knob and stepped into the hall, the last thing she heard, "Catherine, its dad."

The streets were clearly as she neared Avenue D and she punched the car into another gear. She'd always liked cars, the speed and power of them, and she'd been more than happy when the department had been issued better vehicles, such as the stunning silver-grey Charger she was now in possession of. She turned the corner and geared down in quick succession before she brought the car to a stop, popping out from behind the wheel almost instantly, not even bothering to lock the door. At least fifteen of New York's finest were within spitting distance, what did she need to worry about someone snatching her car? She marched towards Joe and Tess as they stood talking to one of the officers.

"Hey, what've we got?" She looked from Joe to Tess.

Joe spoke first, his face reflecting the seriousness of the situation. "Young woman. No ID. Evan estimates she's between the ages of twenty-four and thirty. Found strangled about twenty-minutes ago by a drunk who got out of his car to puke. He's on his way to the station. He was too wasted to be of much help. We'll let him sleep it off and see what more information we can get from him."

Cat nodded her understanding. "Wolanski and Boggs have lead on this, they're next up on the rotation. I expect an update in the morning. You two have a goodnight." He backed up and walked towards his car. A moment later he was gone.

They watched him go.

"So what was Joe doing here?" She asked Tess. "I thought this was something high profile when I saw him standing there." She started walking towards the crime scene.

"Nah. He was headed to something with the wife and was nearby so he decided to detour." She shrugged. "You know how it is."

Catherine and Tess, along with half the precinct, were aware that Joe and his wife were having trouble. He worked late, avoided her as much as possible, tonight being another good example of that. She gave Tess a sympathetic look. She felt for the guy, but Joe's personal life was not their priority right now, the dead woman fifteen feet away was.

"Well the Oestrogen Squad is here."

"Hilarious Wolanski, just as funny as it was the first fifteen times you said it," Tess countered with her usual sarcasm. Cat smirked. Then she saw the victim.

"Damn," she muttered to herself as she crouched near the woman's head. "She almost looks like she's sleeping doesn't she?" She studied the woman's features, the gently cheeks that still had a hint of blush on them, the shadowed eyes and a small smudge near the corner of her mouth. "Looks like we have some transfer here," she called over her shoulder as she continued her cursory examination of the body. "Thumb maybe? Like the perp brushed something away from the side of her mouth or stroked her cheek?" she continued to Tess, as her partner assumed a similar position beside her.

"Yeah, and there's something in her hair too," Tess moved the blonde tresses with the end of her pen. "Dirt of some kind maybe?" she looked around, "Doesn't look like something from around here." Cat nodded her head in agreement.

"Hey, Thelma and Louise, mind backing off of our crime scene? Let the real detectives do their job," Wolanski mused as he stood over them, Boggs at his side with a matching ridiculous grin.

Cat scoffed. "Just finding evidence while you," she looked over at the redheaded patrol officer Wolanski had been speaking to before, "find a date? I think you'd have better luck with the internet." She patted his chest lightly, "I'll let you 'detect' now. Come on Tess."

She stalked away with Tess on her heels. "I really hate that guy."

"Ditto. Meet you back at the precinct? I gotta stop by my brother's to pick up something first," Tess asked as she held the door open on her own Dodge Charger.

"Yeah. I have one or two things I should probably do before tomorrow and I want to hear what CSU digs up on that trace. See you there."

Three hours later Cat was putting away the last of her filing and waiting on the lab to finish their analysis. Tess was sitting drinking her coffee and catching up on the paper. "You know, we really are wasting our good looks," she mused over the top of the editorial. "I mean look at us? It's almost midnight and the only thing either of us has to do is wait on dirt analysis to come from the lab. It's pathetic." She tossed the paper aside and leaned back in her chair, her arms crossing over her forehead as she closed her eyes.

"Well, I've waited around long enough. This isn't our case Tess and even Wolanski and Boggs have headed home. If they can get a good night sleep and worry about evidence tomorrow, why don't we? Want to go for a drink?"

"I'd love too. Where did you have in mind?" Evan's cheerful voice interrupted as he sat on the corner of her desk. Tess flashed a smirk from behind Evan's back and Cat slowly allowed herself to look up at him.

It had been months since Tess started teasing Cat about Evan. It was evident the good medical examiner from Britain had a thing for her not so available partner, but Tess was hoping that would change. Evan was a good guy; intelligent, respected and he wasn't a douche. Yes, he had a silly three month rule about relationships, but with Cat he was different. It had been at least a year since they'd started their weird dance around each other and Tess was hoping that would change. She worried about Cat. She never dated. She was always alone, and Tess knew she hadn't spoken to her family in ages. If it weren't for the fact that Cat's younger sister Heather lived with her, she didn't think there would be anyone in her life outside of work. Cat just needed the right incentive. Tess smirked.

"O'Callaghan's is open and happy hour should be starting soon. We should head down there," she stated as she pushed up from her chair and grabbed her bag. "You coming?" she urged with another grin as she watched Cat and Evan fall in behind her.

They were downstairs headed out the door, Cat and Evan talking behind her, when she decided the time was now. "Shoot! You know what? I just remembered. I have to go pick up some dry cleaning before tomorrow. Why don't you two head over to O'Callaghan's by yourself. Alone and yet together," she mused as she gave Cat a wink. "Goodnight. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." She disappeared out the door.

"Wow! She was subtle," Cat mused as she turned to Evan, that devilish grin playing at the corners of his mouth as he watched her carefully.

"So what do you say, Cat? Have a drink with me?" he leaned in slightly, hoping she'd say yes. "Or are you afraid that you can't handle yourself around me, Detective Chandler?"

She chuckled. "I think I'll be fine. Let's go." They turned towards the door and were almost out when a commotion caught their attention. Cat's brow furrowed as she heard the sound of scuffling. "Wait…wait here a minute," she said as walked towards the sound, Evan followed behind at a distance. He was a medical examiner not a cop, brawling perps weren't his speciality cadavers were.

She moved behind the desk and walked towards the holding cells where the source of the sound was coming from, her feet picking up into a job as she saw one office step out from around the corner covered in sweat and breathing hard. She gave him a quick look, he was fine, and then proceeded.

She saw him a moment later, a tall guy with shaggy brown hair surrounded by three cops who were trying to get in into a cell. There was an officer to her right who looked like he'd just gotten the work out of his life. "What's going on?"

"He was brought in for a drunk and disorderly. We tried to get him into the cell and he just freaked out. Went Rambo on us."

Cat nodded, "Okay." She didn't wait, the officer's protests fell on deaf ears as she took several quick steps forward, dropped into a crouch and swept her leg around knocking the perp to the ground. The second his body hit the tiles they were on him, pinning him to the floor as they struggled to subdue him. Cat got to her feet, feeling rather accomplished, they could take it from there. She was just about to return to Evan and their impromptu date when the man's face came into view for the first time, peaking out beneath the mishmash of flailing limbs.

She froze.

Their eyes met and suddenly he stilled as well as both were drawn in, neither able to break the gaze.

"Vincent?"

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**Author's Note:**

This is the prologue of a thirty chapter story (at least at present this may change with inspiration and reviews) that I've already outlined. I can't tell you when I will be updating, but I will give you bonuses at the end of each chapter, mostly music. I find the music from the show is fantastic and definitely inspiring to me when writing this fiction.

So, to start you off here is a video for the song that inspired this story: watch?v=ZcfqS0ELnUQ - Nitesky by Robot Koch

This is the song for the chapter: watch?v=GA13r2jIyX4 - Midnight City by M83

Songs on youtube.

See you guys next chapter!


	2. Chapter 1 - Facing the Dawn

**Disclaimer: Beauty and The Beast (2012), and all its characters belong to the CW and the show's creators. I am jut an avid fan who loves twisting the stories around.**

**Any reproduction of this story, in whole or in part, is strictly prohibited without the author's written consent.**

* * *

**Let My Soul Out**

**Prologue**

"Vincent?" she repeated in utter disbelief. What was he doing there? It had been years and she never thought she'd see him again.

She watched dumbstruck as the other officers cuffed him and hoisted him into the air by the back of his belt and dragged him towards a holding cell. Her mouth agape as she watched him go, his eyes still locked on hers.

"Cat? Catherine?" Evan's voice broke the spell and she turned towards him.

"Yeah?" she responded absently as her eyes momentarily returned to the spot where Vincent had been a moment before, he was gone now, but the effects of seeing him still lingered.

"Shall we go?" Evan smiled and walked towards her.

"Yeah. Let's go," she said with a forced smile as she took the arm he offered her and walked together out of the precinct. Once outside Evan tried to persuade her to take his car, but Cat was stubborn and insisted on driving herself.

"I'll be right behind you," she said with a smirk as Evan looked back her as she stood, half inside the car and half out, watching him get into his own vehicle.

"Sure this isn't your clever way to stand me up?" he teased.

"I will if you don't get in the car," she retorted with the same lightness that he exuded. Evan was a happy person, she'd have to say. He was serious about his work, thorough and utterly dedicated, but outside of that he still found a way to make every day just a little brighter for her, even if it was with one of his ridiculous jokes or his thinly-veiled attempts at catching her attention. He wasn't subtle about his attraction to her, but he wasn't obnoxious about it either, he managed to find some strange balance to it all and truth be told he'd worn her down.

Cat had been avoiding relationships of any sort since her break up with Zeke, the musician wannabe, who had managed to hold her attention for four months before she broke it off. He had been a good guy, a bit of a flake when it came to the reality that he was not Jimi Hendrix, but good all the same. The fault hadn't been his that they failed. The problem lay within her.

"You're going to make me pull off first aren't you?" She shook her head as Evan watched her intently. "Fine! I'll move first, but you're buying the first round," she declared before sliding behind the wheel.

Evan smirked satisfied. "I can agree to those terms." A moment later they were both on their way to O'Callaghan's.

The pub, because it was of that than a bar, with its traditional pub arrangements and its selection of classic liquor: whiskey, scotch, brandy, and other like drinks. There were no cosmopolitans or martinis to be had here, just straight liquor, which was why it was a favourite with so many on the force. O'Callaghan's was sort of the unofficial meeting place of the NYPD. When you had a bad day and needed to wash it away you found yourself at the bar talking to Lou, the owner, and drinking a straight scotch. Many of those who had served and died on the force had their pictures adorning the walls. Yes O'Callaghan's served the general public, but from ten until three it belonged solely to the members of the NYPD. It wasn't an official rule, but everyone knew it.

Three hours later Cat sat across from Evan in their own private both, several rounds in. Her jacket sat beside her on the red leather seat as did his. They were laughing over their respective whiskeys, the day forgotten for the most. "You know, this is the first time you've ever agreed to go out with me. Usually we find ourselves on our own when the rest of the precinct is out for drinks. Progress Detective Chandler?" Evan sipped his whiskey as he watched her.

Cat laughed, her cheeks flushing slightly at his observation. "Maybe Mr Marks," she said returning his gaze. "Maybe." She looked up at him and for a moment he disappeared and before her eyes were seven smiling faces, each person dressed in army fatigues. Her hearing became slightly hollow and she blinked rapidly and shook her head to right it, looking away from Evan and taking another long sip of her drink.

"So you were telling me about your awkward teen years," Evan joked, unaware are the slight change.

"Right. Where did I leave off?" she asked between sips.

"The senior dance. I believe you said it was an eighties themed event," he said as the thought made him chuckle.

"Right. I went with Vincent Zalanski. I had the biggest crush on him. He had blue eyes and jet black hair. Sort of James Dean kind of look going on," she mused as she recalled the boy who had preoccupied much of her childhood fantasies. Unfortunately she was shy and never got the courage to admit her feelings until he asked her to his senior dance. "I wore a hideous yellow taffeta dress with spaghetti straps and silver shoes."

"You remember it very well don't you," Evan remarked smirking at her. "A memorable event?"

"Yeah, it was I guess. I had never been asked to a dance before and it made me feel special to be one of the youngest people there and that he'd chosen me as his date." She leaned back against the leather and sighed. "Gosh, I even remember what we danced to," she said as she was overcome by laughter. "Juice Newton's Angel of the Morning. I loved that song after that. I used to listen to it every day." She sipped her drink as her head shook lightly in amusement. "I haven't heard it in years."

Evan watched Catherine with an interest that never faltered. He took in the way her eyes light up when she laughed and the tiny hollows her dimples made in her cheeks when she smiled. He'd seen some stunning women in his life, Clair , Daphne Finnerty and a host of others, but Catherine was something else. She wasn't just beautiful on the outside, but it was what was inside her that drew him in. The expression in her eyes, her dedication to her work, even the way she kept herself apart from everything and everyone around her, brought him further and further into her web.

"Hey Lou, that thing work?" Evan asked as he nodded towards the jukebox in the corner.

"Yeah, but no one plays it."

Evan looked at Cat with a smile. "Evan? What are you up to?" she asked, but her question was barely out of her lips before he was walking away from their both towards the jukebox. She watched him with a grin tickling the corners of her mouth as a moment later the familiar piano chords wafted from the speakers and Judy Kay began to sing. She couldn't believe it was in there. Each chord brought some pleasant memory.

Evan approached with a confident grin, "Detective?" he extended his hand to her.

She wanted to say no, she did, but in that moment she couldn't make herself. She took his hand and let him lead her to a small vacant space amongst the sea of tables and chairs. He pulled her close to him, his hand resting on the small of her back as the other grasped her right hand. They began to sway back and forth to the music. In a surprise move he spun her out and brought her back into his steadfast frame, forcing a shocked laugh to escape her.

"Why Mr Marks, I do believe someone's taken dancing lesson in his life," she mused as she looked up at him.

Evan grinned in return. "I had a very traditional mother. She thought a man wasn't a gentleman unless he knew how to treat a woman like a lady," he explained. "Dancing was part of it."

"I like your mother's style," she commented.

It had been so long since she'd been held like this and Cat found herself falling into the feeling of comfort and easy that she had Evan had been developing between one another over the past months. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest. The moment she did her vision was once again blurred and she was met by those same faces that had intruded upon her earlier that evening, but this time they weren't smiling but wordlessly shouting and screaming. Her eyes immediately opened.

"Hey you two, closing up in a minute," Lou informed from behind the bar. Evan nodded is acknowledgement as Cat slowly stepped away from him, a nervousness filling her stomach that she couldn't explain.

"Well it seems that we're being chased off," Evan mused. "Shall I see you home?"

She could see the hopefulness in his eyes, he was patient with her if nothing else, but she couldn't give him what he wanted right now.

"Not tonight," she said with a nervous clearing of her throat. "I think I'm still pretty good to get home on my own."

"Next time maybe?" He stepped towards her again. "And maybe you'll let me drive. And maybe it can be Nobu instead of O'Callaghan's?" He brushed a strand of hair from her face as he slowly leaned in. He'd wanted to do this for months now. The question was would she let him? There was only one way to find out.

She was frozen where she stood, watching as Evan's face closed the gap between them. Did she want to do this? Could she take this step? She didn't have time to answer her own questions as Evan's lips connected with hers and her body responded of its own accord, kissing him back.

They tasted of whiskey and their own unique flavours mingled as their lips parted inviting the other in. Evan's hand rested gently held her arms as if preventing her from breaking the moment. He didn't need to worry, Cat was incapable of moving in protest, she was drunk on the suddenly rush of emotions, not all of which was caused by Evan. Then sudden a face appeared before her closed eyes that shocked her into reaction. She pulled away abruptly, her eyes searching for anything to focus on besides Evan.

He was a bit surprised by the sudden ending of their kiss, but Evan was still content with the fact that it had happened at all. "Cat?" He looked at her questioningly.

"I ah…I…we should go," she said looking over at Lou who was very clearly pretending not to have seen what he just had. She looked up at Evan briefly before going to collect her jacket. She rushed out of the pub, the flush in her face causing her entire body to feel overheated. She needed air.

She stepped into the street, her chest heaving, as she tried to catch her breath. What did she do? And of all the places to do it? They'd be talk. There was no doubt of that. The medical examiner kissing a detective – there would definitely be talk about that. She ran a nervous hand through her mahogany hair just as Evan walked up behind her, his jacket in the process of sliding into place on his shoulders.

"Hey, what happened to you?" he asked, turning her towards him gently.

"Evan, look. We had too much to drink and we were being nostalgic," she looked up at his still face. "We just got caught up in the moment."

He expected this from her. Evan wasn't a fool, he knew that getting through to Catherine would take time, and he'd been more than patient already. He wasn't about to give up just as he was breaking through.

"Cat," he repeated her name as he rubbed her arms gently. "Look, I know what everyone thinks of me. So I understand your apprehension about what just happened, but we did just kiss, and you…you didn't push me away." He smirked. "I'm just saying give it a chance." He pulled her to him and gently kissed her forehead before stepping back and giving her space. "Good night Detective Chandler." He gave her a respectful nod and then turned towards his car. Cat looked blankly after him, her heart fluttering in her chest.

She stood on the sidewalk for a few moments as she tried to gather her thoughts. She leaned against her car taking deep breaths, when suddenly the sound around her hollowed and her sight seemed to tunnel. The sounds she heard couldn't be found on any New York street. She heard their voices shouting. "Get down! We're under fire! This is Unit Two, Delta Company. We're three clicks West of…" the sound began to falter. "Chandler, are you alright? Chandler? Catherine?" a voice shouted to her, a familiar voice. She closed her eyes, squeezing them tight, as she fought the sights and sounds until finally she was alone by her car once more.

Her hands were shaking as she pushed the key into the lock and got behind the wheel. She sat there for several minutes, waiting for her rattling nerves to subside. She hadn't had an episode in so long. She had almost thought they were over, but apparently she was wrong. She looked out the car; there was no doubt the reason for this new occurrence, it was sitting back at the precinct in a holding cell…Vincent.

She took several cleansing breaths before turning the key in the ignition and pulling out swiftly from the curb and into the street. She should have been heading home at that hour, but instead she found her way back to the precinct. A moment later was stepping through the doors she had left just a few hours before, and walking towards the desk.

"Hey Shilters," she said as she placed her hands calmly on top of the sergeant's desk.

"What can I do for you Detective?" he asked, standing out of respect.

"That drunk and disorderly from earlier. You book him yet?" she asked casually.

"Not yet. We thought it best to let the guy sober up a bit. Less difficult to handle that way," the sergeant alluded to the Rambo episode he had witnessed earlier. "He's back there in holding." He smiled to her, "By the way, nice moves bringing him down."

Cat smiled, "Thanks." She hesitated only briefly before asking what she'd come to. "Can I see him?"

"Sure. Go right on back. Fourth cell on the right," he instructed as he opened the gate and allowed her through.

The precinct was quiet, almost eerie, as she walked further inside towards the holding cells. Her heard thumped a Calypso beat in her chest as she got closer to the cells. She could hear nothing but that beat in her ears.

One…

Two…

Three…

She stopped before she reached the fourth cell, every synapse in her body firing as she steeled herself. Finally, she had to make a choice. Go back and forget she saw him or take the two steps needed to face him. Her feet moved, and to her surprise they stepped forward.

He was lying on the cot with this back to the bar, but she knew it was him. He was dressed in faded blue jeans, an olive green jacket and work boots. She looked at him in silence, her hand reaching up to grasp one of the bars as if steadying herself. She didn't speak. She didn't know what to say. What do you say to someone you haven't seen in four years? _Hey! Nice to see you?_ No. There was too much in their past for that. So she waited. Something would come to her. It had to.

"Catherine?" the sound of her name on his raspy voice raised goosebumps over her entire body. She couldn't answer.

He knew it was her. He heard her footsteps as she approached, the hesitation, before they finally stilled. He could feel her watching him. This hadn't been how he'd expected to see her again, if he ever did. She'd made it pretty clear she didn't want him in her life four years ago. Now, to have her see him like this, the pangs of shame stabbed at his stomach.

He turned to face her, swinging his feet onto the floor, his elbows resting on his knees as his hands clasped between them. He looked at her, but couldn't hold her gaze long, as the bars that separated them seemed to double in size.

"I didn't think you'd come back," he finally muttered as he forced himself to once again face her.

"I didn't plan it," she admitted, licking her lips nervously.

She looked around and spotted a metal folding chair down the corridor. She collected it and placed it in front of the cell facing him. She sat, her stance mimicking his, while she tried to think of what to say. The best thing was the simplest wasn't it? "What are you doing here?"

The question burned a hole through his insides, but he knew it was a reasonable one, and not the worst thing she could have asked him. The tension between them filled the space completely. Years of distance made the six steps between where he sat and where she was seem like an impossible breach to cross. Once, there had been no breach, no cavern separating them. They had relied on each other utterly. They didn't have a choice.

"I uh…" he shook his head as he vaguely recollected the circumstances that led to him being a guest of the NYPD. "I was down at O'Toole's. I guess I had too much or something," he didn't look at her as he spoke. "Some guy said something. I said something back. The next thing I knew the boys in blue were trying to force me into a cell." He smirked slightly as he glanced up at her. "Then I was flat on my back." Her eyes met his. "You're work I believe."

Catherine's voice faltered. "Yeah. I…I didn't know it was you."

He sat up. "I doubt you would have done anything different if you knew it we me before you acted." He gave her his signature crocked grin.

She tried to not smirk back but she couldn't help it. "No. No, I wouldn't have." She ran her hand through her hair, pulling it over her left shoulder, their moment of lightness fading as quickly as it appeared.

Several minutes passed as they looked at each other in silence, neither sure what they should say, but both having things they wished they couldn't and as many that they wished would never become a subject of conversation. Finally, Catherine acted. She stood, looking at Vincent intently. She nodded to him slightly and then turned on her heels and walked back to the front desk.

"Hey Shilters," she said as she approached the desk sergeant. "Look," she began once she had his attention. "I know this isn't exactly protocol, but the drunk and disorderly, think you can spring him for me? Just let him off with a warning?" her eyes were gently as she spoke.

"Detective, I can't just…"

"Look, I know this isn't procedure and I wouldn't normally ask but…" she took a deep breath. "Can I level with you Shilters?" He nodded that she could. "The drunk and disorderly. He was in my unit in Afghanistan." Her eyes became distant as she spoke, "He saved my life," she finished, as her eyes returned to the man before her. "I owe him."

Shilters looked at Catherine in shock. Everyone knew she's served in Afghanistan, but she'd never spoken about it before, not to anyone. He didn't know what to do. He looked at her intently. "He saved your life you say?" She nodded. He did the same. "Okay," he tossed her the keys. "He gets a pass just this once."

She smiled, catching the keys and turning back to the cells. "Detective!" she stopped and looked back. "Just because it's you, and for what he's done for his country. He comes back here…he's getting booked." She swallowed and nodded. He flashed a smile and Catherine turned back to where Vincent was waiting.

She moved faster on this second trip, adrenaline in her veins at what she was doing. She needed to get him out before anyone else showed up to ask questions. She marched up the cell and pushed the key in the lock. Vincent stood immediately, bewilderment on his face. "Catherine?"

"You're outta here," she said as she pulled open the door. Vincent didn't move. He could see the nervousness in her mannerisms as she looked in the direction from whence she'd come. "Get your stuff and let's go!" she ordered. His chin rose slightly and he grabbed his baseball cap and shoved it on his head as she walked past her. She locked the cell and followed after him.

"Shilters!" she called, tossing the keys back to the sergeant as she stepped in front of Vincent. They'd reached the gate and he'd faltered unsure whether he should move forward or not. Catherine looked at him as she unlocked the small wooden impediment and ushered him through. She pulled it closed behind her once she was on the other side. She looked back at the sergeant. "I owe you one," she said with a big smile.

"Detective. We're square." She looked at the sergeant and smiled once more. He smiled back. She nodded, a tiny gesture, and then turned towards the door.

She stepped out in the cold night air, her breath billowing before her. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans before she noticed the figure standing on her right. It was Vincent. She started but quickly composed herself as he stepped out from the shadows, his hands also buried within his pockets and the collar of his jacket pulled up to his ears.

They stepped around each other until they were facing, the tension that had been there before still present even without the confines of a cell. They were both nervous and they could feel it.

"Catherine, what you just did…"

"No need to say anything," she interrupted. "I owed you." She could barely look at him.

"Yeah," he replied uncertainly. "Of course that's why you did it."

She rocked on her heels but didn't answer. He watched her but she refused to look at him. Vincent's jaw flexed as he contemplated what to say. She didn't give him the chance.

"Right," she said dismissively as she forced herself to look at him. "If you find yourself in here again I can't help you."

"I know that."

"Good." She licked her lips nervously. He watched the small flicking of her tongue. "Take care of yourself."

"You too." He said to her back, his raspy voice deepening slightly with the effort it took to watch her walk away from him. He watched her back for several moments before he was able to force himself to turn around towards home. His boot thudded against the pavement, an echo of something inside him that wasn't quite right. He turned back only once to see where she was, before he turned the corner and disappeared into the nearest subway entrance.

Catherine, didn't look back as she made her way to her car, but she could sense him watching. As she sat behind the wheel, the engine on and everything set for her to move off, she found that she couldn't. After feeling like she had finally found some form of normal, there he was again; reminding her of all the things she wanted to forget. She gripped the wheel as she rested her forehead against. Why did this have to happen right now?

She looked up finally, her face flushed. It would be morning soon. She needed to get some rest before she had to be back in office and was forced to face another day knowing that Vincent Keller was back in New York.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

So did you love last night's episode or what? I certainly did! So happy Catherine finally admitted her feelings, even if it wasn't to Vincent. She's making progress. Check out the previews for the next episode...Alex is going to find out that Cat is far from Vincent's handler. Am I horrible for looking forward to that? I don't think so :)

Here is the song for this chapter: watch?v=HTzGMEfbnAw - Angel of the Morning by Juice Newton

Find it on youtube.

See you next chapter!


	3. Chapter 2 - Moving Forward

**Disclaimer: Beauty and The Beast (2012), and all its characters belong to the CW and the show's creators. I am jut an avid fan who loves twisting the stories around.**

**Any reproduction of this story, in whole or in part, is strictly prohibited without the author's written consent.**

**NB: **

**Let me start on a serious note. The event depicted in Catherine's nightmare is based of of a real even that happened on July 13th 2008 near the village of Wanat in the Waygal district of Afghanistan. I had thought up this scenario before ever reading about that tragic day, but being someone who likes to be authentic, I came across the details during my research for this chapter. I cannot imagine what the true events must have been like, and I mean no offence to anyone by portraying my version of them. I have the utmost respect for those who put their lives on the line for their country.**

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**Let My Soul Out**

**Chapter Two - Moving Forward**

Catherine dragged herself into her apartment, the sun barely glowing beneath the horizon, as she dropped her keys on the bar in the kitchen and kicked off her shoes. She didn't even consider where they landed. Once they were off she continued on her course to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her and falling across the bed immediately. She had intended to change but the moment her body touched the softness of her mattress her eyes closed and sleep claimed her. She'd had an exhausting day, and seeing Vincent only made it more so.

If she could have wished for a peaceful night's sleep, she would have found that her wishes fell on deaf ears. Instead, she was haunted by memories of the past, of things she was trying to forget.

"_Hey Chandler! You sure you know how to use that thing?" Vincent joked from his position between Lafferty and Ascalvo, causing the others to chuckle._

"_Shut up Keller," she scoffed as she set the timer on the camera. "I'm just…about…done! There!" she ran across the short space, the dust flying from her footfalls as she turned and stooped in front of Vincent and the rest of her unit. "Say cheese!" She grinned at the camera._

"_Cheese!" the eight soldiers cried in unison just as the camera flashed, forever capturing that moment in time._

"_Switch!" she cried and the group hustled to get into new positions, barely making it before the camera snapped once more. They cried in protest but still managed to get themselves into some order before the next photo was captured. Catherine and Vincent were pressed shoulder-to-shoulder against each other as their fellow soldiers squeezed into various ridiculous poses. Vincent's arm was around her neck and hers around his, both of their hands making bunny ears behind the other's head._

"_Switch!" she called again, this time she and Lafferty put their heads together and pouted provocatively at the camera – as the only two females in the unit and not to mention that they'd arrived together, they had formed a strong bond from the onset. The guys encircled them making body-builder poses._

"_Switch!" There was a murmur amongst the men, and suddenly Catherine found herself hoisted into the air horizontally. "Hey!" she protested between laughter as three of the men held her up and the other three lifted Lafferty. The camera clicked to life again. A moment later, Catherine and the trio found themselves in the dirt, her head cradled in Vincent's lap as he tried to cushion her from the fall. Their CO had sent a barrel their way knocking the three men off their feet._

_She was laughing so hard tears were forming in her eyes as she tried to sit up. Vincent was watching her with that strange look again. She'd seen it several times over the past months, and often wondered what he was thinking in those moments. He of course never told. She smiled at him. Their faces mere inches apart, and the camera snapped again, another memory for them both._

"_Enough fun and games you chuckleheads." They hustled to their feet before their CO and waited for their orders. "Milverson, your unit's headed over to the Waygal district. You're headed to the Wanat village. They need some help getting that station functional and could use the man power. You'll be stationed at the base there for the next month and then you're State side ladies and gentlemen. At least until your next deployment. Got it? Get your asses moving then." _

_They packed up their gear, each face smiling, happy to hear they'd be going home, at least for a little while. They'd been a unit for the past three years, and had seen their share of skirmishes, and had been lucky enough to survive them all with minimal injuries. Catherine packed her duffel with her few things. Vincent was next to her doing the same._

"_Looking forward to going home? "she said with a smile as she looked across at him._

"_Yeah. It'll be nice to see my dad you know."_

"_And not just him," he looked at her a little puzzled. "Alex!" she said with a laugh. "It'll be nice to see her too I bet." She shoved her tank into the duffel not looking at him, the words somehow difficult to say, though she had no right to feel that way._

_Vincent watched her and then laughed, a little uncomfortable, "Yeah. Of course. Alex." They both finished packing and several minutes later were on their way to their new post._

_That night they arrived at the new outpost in the remote area of Afghanistan. There had been several difficulties in getting the area fortified as was required, but that's what they were there for, extra man power to ensure they were ready should they ever need to defend the post. They reported to their commanding officer and were given orders for that night. Their team was to man the observation post as the 'freshest' unit at the moment. They'd have duty for the next eight hours before they'd be relieved. _

_The eight of them sat together talking about their plans for when they'd be back home. Lafferty was reluctant to make plans until she was safely on the chopper on her way home, but she was looking forward to seeing her boyfriend. Milverson and Ascalvo were both making plans to do as much as they could with their families. Milverson had gotten married the year before and the entire unit attended. His wife Alice, was expecting their first child. Ascalvo was a married man with three children between the ages of four and eight. The last time they'd been home they had attended a barbecue for his youngest daughter, Emmanuella's birthday. Catherine listened with just a twinge of jealousy. She was the only one in the unit who didn't have someone to go home to. Sure she had her father and Heather, but things were tense between her and her dad. He hadn't wanted her to enlist and the tension still lingered because of her decision._

_She understood her father's worries. He'd lost the love of his life, and Catherine lost her mother in the World Trade Center. He didn't want to lose his eldest daughter too. However, it wasn't his choice. It was hers. _

_It was 4:20 in the morning when it began. Catherine stepped away from her post to take a better look at the skyline. Something was bothering her but she wasn't sure what. A moment later Vincent walked up beside her, his hands jammed into his pockets._

"_Hey. What're you doing?" he asked as he looked out with her._

"_Just looking. The sky is so clear out here." She sighed deeply, holding her gun against her chest._

"_Yeah it is." Vincent agreed as he adjusted his weapon at his side, his finger beside the trigger. They were always on alert, even in these moments when there seemed to be peace in the middle of the war. _

_She could feel him watching her and turned to look at him. They looked at each other, hazel meeting hazel. She felt something, the same thing she felt whenever they looked at each other. The thing she couldn't admit. He had a fiancée back home, and they were in the middle of a desert fighting a war. Nothing about the situation was right. Besides, they were friends, family in this sandy fire-trap She wouldn't let that feeling contaminate what they already had. They'd become closer in the past two years, the two New Yorkers in the unit. They talked about home, the things they missed and what they'd be doing if they weren't where they were now. Those nights when they had night watch together, they got to know each other better than they knew the other members of their unit._

_She smiled at him, and then suddenly the peace was shattered by the sound of machine gun fire followed by rocket-propelled grenades and mortars. The base lost its' mortar and stockpile of ammunition in the first attack, as they detonated from the blast. Then the observation post was under fire. She heard the sound and then there was flash and everything went black. She didn't know how long she was out, but when she finally came to Vincent was lying motionless beside her as was the rest of her team. Her ears rung and she shook her head to try to clear them and get her bearings. _

"_Vincent!" she said as she shook him into consciousness. He turned over immediately, his every cell on hyper-alert. They crawled back to their post, finding Wade Gentry on the way. He'd been blown from his position manning the machine gun during the initial blast. "Wade?" she shook him, but the blank stare and blood soaking his clothes told her all she needed to know. He was dead. They moved forward, constantly under fire, the sound of mortars in their ears. _

_They finally reached the rest of the unit, Lafferty and the others were stunned or injured, but Duchovny was gone, his body laid hanging over the side of their wall of sandbags, riddled with bullets._

"_What are we looking at?" Lafferty questioned as she ducked beside Catherine._

"_I don't know. I can't tell, but there're a lot of them." Her face grimaced as another grenade blast ripped through the camp. The two women took several breaths and with grunts of equal determination they both raised their automatic weapons and fired, giving Vincent time to tend to the others. _

"_I'm out!" Lafferty cried several minutes later as she ducked down once more. Vincent kicked Dillon's gun towards her, their fellow soldier was in no position to fight, he was bleeding out from a leg wound caused by the grenade blast. Vincent did his best to make a tourniquet for him before he moved on to Milverson._

"_Shit!" the senior officer cried as Vincent inspected his arm. He was bleeding pretty badly, and his arm was useless. Vincent looked at him with consternation that he tried to hide. If Milverson didn't get proper help soon, he wouldn't be with them much longer._

"_Take it easy," Vincent urged._

"_Give me my gun," he demanded._

"_You're in no position…"_

"_Give me my gun! Sons-a-bitches kill two of my men and I'm just going to sit here and bleed?" he looked Vincent dead in the eye. "Give me my gun."_

_Vincent ducked another round of fire while simultaneously shoving Milverson's gun into his hands. "I'm right behind you," he urged as he assisted his unit leader up and heard as his weapon began to fire. As the only one in the unit with medical training, having been a doctor before he enlisted, it was Vincent's duty to check on the injured before he got into the fighting himself. He moved on to next broken body._

_Catherine fired until her arms were throbbing with the effort and her gun was empty. She ducked to reload. She glanced at Vincent as he aided Ascalvo. _

_"We need a man on the machine gun," Milverson ordered._

"_I'm on it!" she responded without hesitation as she clawed her way through the dirt to Gentry's former post. She loaded the gun and put it back in place, it having been knocked over during the blast. She slapped it one time and then opened on the direction the assault was coming from. She didn't look around, she just kept firing, the adrenaline burning through her veins. She couldn't think. She just did as she was trained to do. _

_She heard it whistle, and looked up in time to see a mortar headed straight for her. She responded, immediately diving out of the machine gun pit and tumbling across the dirt as the spot where she'd been standing exploded into light and then went dark._

_She was dazed, breathing in dirt from the ground, where she lay. _

"_Chandler? Chandler? Catherine!" Vincent called to her._

"_I'm okay!" she panted as she forced herself up and crawled beside Ascalvo, who had his gun in his hand and was covering her retreat. _

_Vincent rushed over to her, "Talk to me Chandler," he looked into her eyes searching for any signs of concussion. _

"_I'm good. Just give me a gun." He shoved an MP5 into her hands and they both opened fire on their attackers._

_The fighting was intense and it seemed as if it would never cease. Catherine positioned herself beside Lafferty, who was still giving all she had thirty minutes into the battle. They'd move to the far end of the observation post in an effort to better gauge from whence the greatest threat was coming. Vincent, Ascalvo and Milverson continued their fire fight on the other side. Dillon remained still but the shallow rise and fall of his breath and the occasional groan let them know he was still with them._

_The two women stood beside each other, unified in their fight and in the willingness to survive the onslaught around them. It came with no warning, just a suddenly explosion, as a grenade detonated near Lafferty, sending both woman hurtling through the air. She remembered the impact of her back against the hard, dry earth, and then everything was darkness._

_She wasn't sure how long she was out, but as she struggled to come out of the abyss she could feel a weight lay on her chest crushing her. She started awake at the sound of another blast, it was then she discovered what the weight was._

"_Sabrina?" Catherine cried, barely able to speak as the woman's lifeless body lay on top of her. She wanted to help her friend, her hands trembled with the desire, but there was nothing she could do. Tears fell as she tried and failed to remove her friend's body. She tried to brush the dirt from her eyes, her hands coming away covered in blood, some of which was dripping from the tip of her friend's nose. She just lay there not sure if she was hurt, her entire body feeling numb. She felt as if she was in a tunnel, her hearing hollow, everything seeming distant. She vaguely remembered her friend's body being removed from her own and Vincent's face appearing over her. She couldn't keep her eyes open so she accepted the darkness and whatever comfort it had to give._

_When she woke again she was propped up against the sandbags beside Vincent, who was firing one of the MP7s. She coughed. Her lungs hurt, and Vincent slid down beside her. "You with me Chandler?"_

_She looked at him, moving her arms trying to gauge if she was hurt. "You're fine. The blood isn't yours." His words did little to assure her, as Catherine looked over to where the mangled body of her friend lay motionless. She wanted to cry, out of fear and out of rage._

"_Catherine!" Vincent's voice permeated her fog. "They've been trying to get some guys up here to get out the wounded and the dead," he said looking over at Ascalvo whose head hung down against his chest, which wasn't moving with the signs of breath. Catherine blinked. No! Not him too._

"_How's Dillon?" she asked panting. It was then she noticed the blood running down Vincent's right cheek. "What happened?"_

_He looked at her and guessed what she was referring to. He put his hand to his face before she could. "It's nothing. A bullet just grazed me. As for Dillon, he lost consciousness about ten minutes ago. You've been out for fifteen or so. I dragged you back under cover." He looked around. "We're running low on ammo. We've got Ascalvo's Colt and Milverson's MP5, but they're both out. All I have is what I got here." Vincent explained as he tried to catch his breath._

"_My MP7," she looked at him. "It's full. And I got extra ammo in my pack for the Colt and the MP5. We just need to get to it." Both looked to where her pack had landed during the blast. It was far beyond cover making getting it risky._

_Vincent looked at her as if trying to decide something. "I'm good," she assured. "I'm good."_

"_I'll cover you." The emotion that filled his eyes as he spoke was beyond anything she'd ever seen. "I got your back."_

"_I know you do," she panted. She felt that feeling stir in her stomach and looked way. This wasn't the time. "On three?" she stated, turning back to him. He nodded his agreement._

She braced herself.

"_One…two...three!" She pushed off of the dirt, the adrenaline masking the pain that the grenade blast had caused, as she tore towards her pack with the sound of Vincent firing behind her. She had just grabbed the strap, skidding in the dirt as she tried to turn around and get back. Suddenly, she saw Vincent coming towards her, knocking her to the ground as machine gun fire perforated the air. She felt the impact as he lay on top of her, three thuds, and then Vincent didn't move._

_No! No! No! She thought as she lay there. This wasn't going to happen. She shoved with all of her might, rolling Vincent onto his back, blood already staining the earth. _

"_Vincent!" she screamed his name, but he simply groaned her name in pain. She grabbed whatever she could for leverage as she dragged him towards cover, he did what he could to push with his feet but he was already weak. When she finally reached cover and propped him against the sandbags that moment's ago had been her resting place, she tried to ascertain how badly he was hurt. She leaned him forward against her arm as she looked at his back. She could see three bullet wounds and h__e'd become so still._

"_No!" she cried as she looked around her, the faces of her fallen comrades surrounding her, some staring and the others with their eyes closed. This couldn't be happening. Three years together. This couldn't be happening._

_The last thing she remembered was the sound of successive blasts as she held Vincent's head against her body, shielding him as best she could, and then…_

Catherine bolted up in her bed, her clothing and sheets drenched in sweat. She could barely breathe. She looked at the clock; she'd been asleep for just over an hour. She looked around her dark room trying to separate the memory from where she was now. "You're fine Chandler. You're home."

She stood, yanking the wet sheets from the bed and tossing them on the floor, her clothes followed moments later as she walked into the bathroom. She sat in the tub, the water from the shower beating against her head as she hugged her knees into her chest. She was okay, but there was no way she was going back to sleep.

Vincent stood outside of the precinct with two cups of coffee in his hands. He had called earlier to find out when Catherine was expected in, the sergeant advising him she was scheduled to be in at eleven, so at five minutes to the hour he stood sentinel waiting for her. He'd had a good night's sleep once he'd gotten home. It was the first night in literally years that he hadn't been plagued by the memories of that night – the night when six out of his team of eight perished in the desert. He was sure that seeing her was the reason for that...Catherine.

He leaned against the wall, his foot propped up behind him as he waited for her. A moment later, there she was, stalking towards the precinct in dark sunglasses and her head down. She looked tired from where he stood and he wondered if she'd had a problem sleeping.

She walked straight to the door, bypassing him entirely, until he announced himself. "Catherine!" She looked around muddled.

"Vincent? What are you doing here?" she asked, turning on her heels and taking the two steps down to be on the same level as he was. She didn't remove her sunglasses.

"I got you this," he stretched out his hand offering one of the cups. She looked at him curiously from behind her sunglasses but took the proffered beverage. She recognised the cups immediately.

"Charlotte's Diner?" she asked in surprise.

"Yeah. I remembered you said you like their coffee. You said it was the best deli coffee in the city," he said with a small smile. She smiled back. How did he remember that? She'd told him about it during one of those quiet nights patrolling. It must have been six year ago. She looked at him in disbelief.

She put the cup to her mouth and sipped it, the rich brew warming her insides and the shock of caffeine perking her senses. "Thanks for this. I needed it," she said with a quick rise and fall of her left eyebrow. They stood together in uncomfortable silence for several moments before Vincent finally spoke up, clearing his throat before doing so.

"Look Catherine, I know it's been a long time, but think you could meet me at O'Toole's later?" he saw the look of shock and panic flash across her face and he was quick to ease her distress. "I just wanna talk. You're…you're the only person who can understand," he confessed.

She looked at him and nodded silently.

"Ten o'clock?" he suggested.

"Ten sounds fine. I'll meet you there."

Vincent smiled, a small wave of relief flooding through him at her agreement. "I'll see you later then," he stated as she walked backwards and finally turned to leave. Catherine watched him go until he turned the corner out of sight, then she turned and entered the precinct.

Thirteen hours later Vincent sat at the bar in O'Toole's with Catherine nowhere in sight. She was two hours late, and Catherine was never late. Sure she might have been caught up in a case, but something told him that wasn't it. She wasn't coming. She'd lied.

"Hey! Give me a bourbon. Make it a double," Vincent stated as he raised two fingers. The bartender brought the glass and as quickly as it came Vincent had swallowed it down. He hissed as the alcohol burned his oesophagus. "Hey! Another!"

He stared at the dark liquid that slid into place before him, and in his mind he saw hazel eyes and dark hair. He wrapped his hand around the glass and tossed his head back drinking greedily. "Another!"

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**Author's Note:**

On a lighter note. My muse is on fire and I'm going to exploit it while it's hot.

Thanks to each and every one of you who has decided to follow and review this fic. It's all greatly appreciated.

Here is the song for this chapter: watch?v=g2UDf-APve0 – Heart on a Mission by Zach Berkman (I can't stop listening to it)

This song really fit for both Vincent and Catherine during the writing of this chapter. Vincent is hopeful, while Catherine is facing that she hasn't returned to the normal she had convinced herself she had.

Remember youtube is your friend. Also check it out for a one minute clip of next week's episode Cold Turkey. Thanks to Nina2988 for sharing it with me. Awesome!

Looking forward to reading your reviews.

See you guys next chapter!


	4. Chapter 3 - Tempting Fate

**Disclaimer: Beauty and The Beast (2012), and all its characters belong to the CW and the show's creators. I am just an avid fan who loves twisting the stories around.**

**Any reproduction of this story, in whole or in part, is strictly prohibited without the author's written consent.**

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**Let My Soul Out**

**Chapter Three - Tempting Fate**

The guilt beat against her chest like an angry fist even before her eyes opened.

Catherine reluctantly lifted her lids and peered at the clock, the sun was already shining brightly through her window, and the red digits alerted her to the fact that it was just after seven in the morning. She rolled over onto her back, her right hand flat against her abdomen while her left hand played absently in her hair as she recalled the night before. Her eyes were puffy from lack of sleep.

At ten minutes to ten o'clock she stood in the bathroom of the precinct looking at her reflection in the mirror. She had promised Vincent she'd meet him, but as she looked into her tired eyes she knew she wasn't going to keep that promise. It had been too long. There had been too much. There were things that were better left unsaid, buried in a past she wanted to forget – in an experience that she still didn't understand how she'd lived through. As her hands gripped the sides of the porcelain sink her mind flashed once more to that day, to holding Vincent bleeding in her arms and the faces of her friends around her. She wanted to forget that. She thought she had for so long and now she knew it wasn't gone. Now it was back and so was he.

_No_, she thought as she raised her eyes to the mirror again. No, she wasn't going to meet him. Instead she turned and left the washroom, collected her bag and went straight home. She pretended not to hear Tess as she called after her as she hustled out of the precinct. She didn't even answer the phone when she saw her best friend's number appear on the display of her mobile. She didn't want to talk to anyone. She didn't want to be with anyone. She just wanted to be alone.

When she'd finally reached home she was greeted by the silence of an empty apartment, Heather was spending the night at her boyfriend, which meant she had the entire place to herself. She dumped her bag and keys on the bar and proceeded to walk to her room and from there the bathroom, where a cold shower was waiting for her. As she stood under the water, the steady beating of the jets easing away the tensions of the day, her hair a curtain of almost black down her back, she thought of Vincent. How could she not?

She thought of him as she towelled off. She thought of him as she dressed in her pyjamas, bagging blue pants with handcuffs on them and a black tank. She thought of him as she ordered takeout and waited for it to arrive. She thought of him while she stood in the kitchen eating the takeout. Then, there was nothing to do, and still she couldn't get him out of her head.

She tried to sleep, but she tossed and turned restlessly until she had to get up and move or go insane. She stalked the dark apartment; she knew the layout well enough by now to not need to turn the light on, as she tried not to think of what she'd promised and what she'd done. Her hands ran anxiously through her hair, now and then, as she continued to wear a pattern into the floors. Finally, she found herself back in her room sitting on the windowsill looking out on the city. She leaned against the frame, the edge running up the length of her back, as she willed sleep to take her. This wasn't the first time she'd found herself in such a state over him, but for some reason this time seemed more difficult. How could that be? The first time was four years ago, when everything was fresh and right in front of her. Four years later how could it be worse? That thought troubled her as she wrapped her arm around her legs and rested her chin against her knees. How could it be worse? Then it hit her. _Because he's actually here._ It was easier to erase someone from your life when they were miles away and you didn't have to see them, but Vincent was in New York now and she had seen him, and she couldn't get the image out of her mind.

She'd sat there for a long time before fatigue finally crept into her bones and she dragged herself from the window and back beneath the sheets. Restless sleep claimed her soon after.

Now she was awake and the thought of a new day seemed tainted with some kind of numbness she couldn't quite pinpoint, but it was there, and she knew almost instinctually that it would be with her for some time. She forced herself to get up and get ready for work.

An hour later she was marching into the precinct with her chocolate coloured leather jacket on over a cream-coloured top and dark blue jeans. Her boots, as usual, were the wear of the day. Her gun was tucked safely on her hip and she was feeling only marginally better than she had the night before, but she had to be focused, she had work to do.

She was marching up the inside stairs, mentally preparing for whatever cases waited for her, when the sound of someone calling her caught her attention.

"Detective Chandler?"

"Shilters?" she asked as she turned and realised to whom the voice belonged. She smiled and walked back down the few steps to meet him. "What can I do for you, Sergeant?" she said cheerfully, but the look on his face told her something was amiss.

"Your friend from the other night. He's back in lock up."

Catherine closed her eyes as his words struck their mark on the imaginary bull's-eye on her forehead. Vincent had found himself back in jail for the second night in a row. She couldn't help but think, maybe vainly so, that her standing him up the night before had something to do with it.

She licked her lips nervously. "What did he do?"

"Nothing. Patrol picked him up passed out drunk on the sidewalk right outside the precinct. Thought he should sleep it off. Brought him in about four hours ago. We're not going to book him or anything, but I thought you might want to know." Shilters looked at her questioningly as Catherine tried to decide what to do, as the fingers of guilt began to wrap around her stomach.

She inclined her head, indicating to Shilters that he should lead the way, as she followed behind him. They walked past the front desk and back into the holding area where Vincent had managed to claim the same cell from the night before. Shilters unlocked it and she went in.

Vincent was still asleep when Catherine approached. She hesitated a moment considering whether she should wake him or not, but the sooner he got out of there the better it would be for both of them. "Vincent?" she said placing a hand on his shoulder and shaking gently.

He jumped awake, as if startled from some bad dream, and was immediately on his feet. The look on his face was a familiar one. It was the look of a man on his guard, a man ready for some calamity to befallen him. A look she had seen many times in battle. She stepped back.

"Oh man," he muttered as his head spun and he raised a hand to it to try to keep the world still. He had a hell of a hangover. When his head finally stopped spinning enough to realise where he was and who was with him, the anger and resentment instantly boiled up beneath his skin. "What are you doing here?"

"The desk sergeant told me you'd been brought in again last night," she answered with a tint of shame in her voice. "I came to get you out."

"Thought you said the next time I found myself in here I was on my own." He grabbed his jacket from the cot and began to slip his arms into it.

"I know what I said. I'm here anyway."

He scoffed. "Yeah. You're here _now_."

Her lips pursed together with embarrassment. "Look, Vincent, about last night."

"What about it Catherine? Nothing to say. I think you said and did all you wanted to." He stalked towards the open cell door before turning back to her. "Can I go?"

She nodded in disbelief at his dismissal. "Yeah, you can go."

He nodded once in silence and walked away.

The feeling that filled her stomach could only be described as emptiness. She waited only a moment before the feeling propelled her into action. She walked after him, her steps soon quickening.

She caught him just outside the precinct door. She grabbed his arm firmly but gently and turned him towards her. "Hey," she panted slightly. "Can we talk about this? About last night?" Her tone lowered as two of her fellow officers passed them on the stair. She released his arm.

Vincent studied Catherine's mannerisms as the other officers came within earshot. He didn't want to make a scene and he wasn't trying to embarrass her at work so he waited until they had passed through the precinct doors before answering. "There's nothing to say Catherine. I get it. It's been four years and nothing's changed. You didn't want to hear me then and you _certainly _don't want to hear me now. I get it. So don't think this had anything to do with you. Ok? Don't let whatever guilt you think you're feeling affect you. You made your choice. I accept that. Goodbye Catherine."

"Vincent!" she called after his fleeing back, but he didn't turn around and his steps never faltered. A moment later he had disappeared around the corner out of view. Catherine remained on the stairs suddenly very tired, as her eyes glistened with angry tears and her hands folded into fists at her sides.

"Hey, Cat! What are you doing out here?" Tess' voice called from behind her.

Catherine took one last glance to the corner where Vincent had disappeared before looking at her partner. "Nothing. I just… needed some air."

"Already? You haven't even seen the caseload and already you're dodging," Tess teased as Catherine walked up the stairs towards her. "Come on partner, it's not that bad. We got lead on a burglary case down on Fifth Avenue," she added as she swung her arm around Catherine's neck and they both disappeared inside the precinct.

The day passed in a blur. Catherine and Tess found themselves lead on the burglary of the Abercrombie & Fitch store. During the night someone had used glasscutters to gain entry to the store's display window, and with the clever use of an acetylene torch, had made off with over five thousand dollars' worth of items and two days' take in cash.

"These guys knew what they were doing," Catherine commented to Tess as she inspected the scene. "They knew exactly what they were looking for and how to get to it. They had to have been in here before."

"Thinking employee?" her partner asked as she looked at some of the items on display for sale.

"Or a former one maybe? It had to be someone who knew where the safe was and how to get to it." She looked around the store. "Look at what they took. They didn't just grab things off the rack and run. They took specific items. High cost items that weren't located together."

"The items it would cost the store most to lose."

"Exactly. Whoever did this wanted to get back at this store. The question is why."

Tess and Catherine converged in the middle of four skirt racks having completed their cursory inspection of the scene. CSU would do the detailed work and get their findings to them later. "Let's talk to the Manager and see if she knows of any disgruntled employees or people she's dismissed who might have a grudge," Catherine suggested as they walked together to the back of the store.

"So, you ready to tell me what was really up with you this morning?" Tess asked, her eyes only briefly glancing towards Catherine as they walked. "Or are we still pretending it was work and you needed air?"

Catherine's eyes fell. "I uh, I had something to deal with."

"Something like what?"

"Something like I don't want to talk about it right now."

"Okay, but remember I'm here when you're ready," Tess stated with genuine concern. "No judgements."

"I know that. Thanks," Catherine replied with a small smile before taking on a more serious expression as they approached the store's manager and they continued their investigation.

Twelve hours later Catherine and Tess were laughing at their desks. "I don't think I've ever cracked a case this quickly before," Catherine said with a shake of her head.

"I know right. How often does that happen?" Tess chimed in.

"I can't believe the idiot actually thought he could hide that stuff in his apartment while he came back to work and pretended not to know what had happened."

"I mean seriously. The guy left the torch on his dining room table. He didn't even try to hide it."

The two paused momentarily as the perp was escorted to a holding cell where he'd wait for his arraignment. The moment he was out of sight the pair burst into laughter once more. "He practically wet his pants when you started in on him Tess," Catherine noted as she signed off the paperwork, the first time in her career that she'd actually finished the administration of a case the day the case was opened.

"Yeah, I noticed," Tess replied with a hint of pride in her tone. "I've been working on my 'bad cop.'" She began clearing her desk. "Say you want to go out for a drink?"

"Ah, not tonight Tess. I didn't get much sleep last night and I am really eager to see my bed tonight."

"Okay, party-pooper. There's a singles' karaoke tonight and I'm going to see if I can't find myself a Robin Thicke to take home." She gathered her things and started for the door. "Later."

"Good luck!" Catherine called after her as she shook her head. Tess and her perpetual mission to find Mr Right.

Fifteen minutes later Catherine was stepping onto the pavement and heading to her car when she heard her name shouted from behind her, the voice slightly slurred.

"Catherine! Catherine!"

It took her a moment to recognise who it was, but the moment she did her entire body fell. "Vincent?" She dumped her things in the car and walked quickly towards him. His shouting was going to attract attention, the wrong kind, and he'd find himself in a cell for the third night in a row.

"Vincent, what the hell are you doing here? Are you trying to get arrested?" she questioned angrily.

"I had to see you Catherine," he continued to slur. "I had to."

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Vincent," she started and then suddenly his hand was wrapped around her wrist. His touch silenced her immediately as goosebumps rose up her arm. She could only stare at him blankly.

"I needed to talk to you Catherine, but you didn't come." He squeezed her wrist slightly as he tried to pick himself up from the spot where he'd fallen against the wall. He stumbled closer to her. "You didn't come."

"I know, Vincent, I'm sorry. We need to get you out of here," she urged as she tried to lead him to her car, a task that proved a little difficult. When she finally reached the Charger she opened the passenger door and was folding him inside when she heard her name yet again.

"Catherine? Is everyone okay over there?" Evan called from where he stood on the stairs, his body in motion to come towards her.

"Yes, everything's fine. I'm good," she said with a nervous smile as she finally got Vincent inside the car and shut the door. She quickly walked towards Evan to prevent him seeing her passenger. "Hi," she said with a deep breath.

"Hi," Evan replied as she looked at the figure, obscured by the shadows, sitting in the front of Catherine's car. "Catherine, who is that? Are you sure everything's okay?"

She swallowed hard but played it cool. "Yes, everything's fine Evan. Really, you don't need to trouble yourself."

"It's no trouble," he assured her looking into her eyes. "I just saw you having some difficulty over there and wanted to be sure you were alright."

"Thank you for your concern, it's really sweet, but I'm fine I promise. A friend is just having a hard time and needed to talk. So I need to go deal with that," she said nervously. "I'll call you later," she almost whispered.

"I'll look forward to your call," Evan said with a slight inclination of his head. "And I mean that Chandler."

She smirked and nodded before rushing back to the car and getting behind the wheel.

"He seems friendly," Vincent commented the moment she was safely inside the confines of the vehicle.

"Yeah, he is," Catherine replied as she turned the ignition and drove off. She sped through the streets, her anger propelling her, until a traffic light finally stopped her.

"What the hell are you doing?" she looked at Vincent in fury. "Hmm? You almost get yourself arrested. I get you out and the next night you're back in there, and then tonight! I don't understand you. What are you trying to do ruin your life?"

"What life?" Vincent replied dimly. "I needed to see you Catherine. That's why I was there last night. That's why I came tonight. I needed to see you, to talk with you."

He was slumped into the seat beside her, staring ahead as if he was seeing nothing at all, but as he spoke he looked at her and she was filled with pity and her anger faded. If she had just showed up the night before he wouldn't have been at the precinct looking for her. If she had kept her promise they wouldn't be sitting there now.

"Where do you live?" she asked.

"I don't wanna go home." He continued to stare ahead.

"Fine." She pressed down on the accelerator as the light turned green, and continued down the street to the first place that came to mind.

The lights came into view, the swirling colours of the ferris wheel as the screams and cheers of happy patrons began to filter through the air on the wind.

"Coney Island?" Vincent questioned. He looked out on the scene that used to evoke such happy emotions from him, but now seemed a greyed version of its former self. Perhaps the greying was really the result of something on the inside of him he thought. Maybe he was the broken mirror you tried to see yourself in but only had disjointed imagines that were never quite clear.

"You used to say you liked it here," she stated as she parked the car on an empty stretch of boardwalk away from the carnival itself.

He looked forlornly at his lap as he tried to think of what to say. She remembered he used to like Coney Island; the thought brought him some measure of satisfaction, but not much. What she remembered didn't matter. What she did mattered, and what she had done was shut him out, and she was still doing it even four years later.

He sat in silence watching the lights and listening to the ocean.

Catherine's hands had slid from the wheel into her lap as she sat eerily still beside Vincent. She couldn't say why she had come there, just the fact that it was some place she knew used to make him happy, was the force that had guided her. She had left him alone when she'd promised to be there, she had caused him some anguish and she wanted to fix that. This was her way of doing it, but the look on his face as he sat beside her told her that it hadn't helped.

She scolded herself internally for thinking something so trivial could make up for standing him up, when all he wanted was to talk. The problem was that she didn't want to talk, at least not about what he wanted to talk about. She just wanted to make amended for the night before, so she sat in silence, listening to the waves and gazing at the lights wishing that it still made her feel the way it did when she was a child and Coney Island was an adventure she longed for.

Several minutes passed as the silence filled the inside of the car, but neither felt uncomfortable, it was the old comforting silence of their past that had somehow found its way into their present, and both were glad for it.

He'd wanted to talk to her and now she there. He had here where he wanted her, and as his mind cleared slightly from the alcohol, the remnants of its boldness still in his veins, he spoke.

"How have you been?"

"I'm okay."

He nodded his head in silence and looked back at the carnival.

"Are you?"

"I'm fine."

Silence enveloped them once more.

* * *

**Author's note:**

Back again with another chapter. Sorry to leave it on a bit of a cliffhanger but trust me the story warranted it. More coming I promise.

I wanted to get this chapter up before the last episode aired but real life wouldn't permit. Did everyone see the last episode? I was clued to the screen, and the clips for next week have me on the edge of my seat! Some near kiss action going on? I'm I the only one saying 'please, please please'? Check out this link for future BATB stuff to make you happy: beauty-and-the-beast/

Song for this chapter: watch?v=mier0PtpOrw - In State by Unkle (the first song in the video).

Thanks for all the reviews and messages guys. Welcome to all my new followers, I hope to hear your reviews as well.

See you next chapter!


	5. Chapter 4 - No Man is an Island

**Disclaimer: Beauty and The Beast (2012), and all its characters belong to the CW and the show's creators. I am just an avid fan who loves twisting the stories around.**

**Any reproduction of this story, in whole or in part, is strictly prohibited without the author's written consent.**

* * *

**Let My Soul Out**

**Chapter Four – No Man is an Island**

She'd clasped and unclasped her hands from around the steering wheel several times. She'd lowered the window and yet the car felt too hot with him beside her. She glanced at the silent man to her right, not often, and not enough for him to notice, but she looked.

He felt the tension between them, the long silence that had filled the car as the interior heated with their breaths and their own internal thermoses. Catherine had lowered the window but he still felt saturated, the heating coming from somewhere inside of him. He didn't dare look at her, not until his mind was completely clear. The longer he sat there the more sober he became and the more his thoughts became ordered. He had wanted to see her. He had wanted to talk. He still did.

Vincent glanced to his left and watched as rebellious strands of Catherine's brown hair floated on the breeze. She had turned to look out the window, her arm resting on the sill as her chin rested against her knuckles. _She can't look at me either_, he thought. He watched those dancing strands and his mind went back to another night when it was just the two of them for a moment. She had stood against a clear star-filled sky, the desert's heat gone and the sand barely floating on the air as the other soldiers walked near the post. She had been beautiful standing there, alone and thoughtful. He'd gone to her then, compelled by something he couldn't explain, something that had been taking hold and penetrating deeper into him over the past two years of serving together. It had happened over late-night patrols, being coupled for watch duty and the talks of home and the things that were important to them. He had denied it at first. He had a fiancée after all, and Alex was a good woman, but there was something about Catherine that he couldn't shake. There was a point when he thought he had, but then he saw her face again and he knew it wasn't gone, just dormant.

That night he had watched her silently and she, somehow sensing it, had turned and looked back at him. He'd smiled at her and everything seemed easy, effortless. Then all hell broke loose and nothing was ever the same again, at least not for him.

He continued to look at her.

Catherine could feel his eyes on her. Her skin prickled at the sensation, but she didn't look around. She wasn't ready to look him in the face yet, so she kept her head staring out the window hoping for the words that seemed to elude her.

He returned to staring ahead of him.

There had never been this between them, this tension that filled every second when there wasn't words being spoken. She was uncomfortable and she had never been uncomfortable with him before. She knew what it was and she was sure he knew it too, but there was no fixing it. There was no going back in time to change the past. All she could do was hope to forget. All she wanted to do was forget.

They sat together but worlds apart. Vincent inhaled the scent of the ocean as it bathed his face as the surf ebbed and flowed on the shore. The sound was soothing, and he wondered why he hadn't come there before. He'd been back in New York for a year, but he'd kept mostly to himself, his life consisting of trying to find a job, the warehouse and O'Toole's. It wasn't the most exciting life. It was nothing like the life he used to lead, but it was what he lived now. If it weren't for JT he'd have no one, but even his best friend couldn't understand. How could he? He'd never lived it. JT was the teddy bear biochemistry professor that everyone loved. He was the guy who got the 'biochem professor of the semester gift certificate' last month. He was a great guy, a good listener and he tried to pretend he understood, but he didn't. He never could. The only person who could was _her_.

She couldn't take it. She couldn't sit beside him like this in silence it was driving her insane. She had to say something.

"How have you been?" _That was dumb_, she thought, but nothing else had come to her.

"I'm okay," he lied and she knew it.

She turned to look at him, her shoulders squaring against his. "Are you really? 'Cause it doesn't seem that way."

He didn't answer. He wanted to tell her but he couldn't. He wanted to be honest but there is so much standing in the way and for the first time since seeing her again he wondered if this was all a mistake. He gazed at the delicate contours of her face and the softness of her eyes. She had a life, a career, a future. Hell, she even seemed to have someone in her life if that guy by the precinct earlier had been any indication. She had things together, while he was barely able to gasp for air. Still, he was there and so was she. She'd bailed him out, not once but twice. It had to mean something, but what.

_Start with something easy, Vincent_. "You seem to be doing really well Catherine," he started slowly. "You're a detective," he chuckled to release some of his stress. "Couldn't stay away from a life of protecting people could you?"

"I guess not," her tone was unsure. She wasn't quite certain where this line of conversation was going.

"I'm glad you found something to be good at. You were always a great soldier. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you'd come home and take up a badge. Find some other way to serve and help." He played anxiously with the lock on the door. _I wish I could have done that._

His eyes returned to her face. "Looks like you've even managed to have someone in your life." She looked confused. "The guy earlier, the friendly one. He spotted us the minute he walked out the precinct door. He thought you were in trouble and came running to the rescue." His tone was slightly bitter but he tried to hide it.

"Evan?" She felt the knot of nervousness grow in her stomach. She didn't like questions about Evan. She didn't want them from those in the precinct and she certainly didn't want them from Vincent. "He's just a friend," she replied as her gaze left him for the first time since she'd turned around. She was lying he knew, and it burned him, like holding your palm over a flame just out of reach of the full heat but enough to form blisters where it touched.

"You sure? 'Cause it seemed like more than that to me. The way you stood when you spoke, just within each other's personal space. Close enough but not too close to draw attention." His perceptiveness alarmed her, so too the fact that even when tipsy he was still so aware of his surroundings. She looked at him again. _Ever the soldier_, she thought, _ever on watch_, but didn't answer him.

"Where have you been?" Her response was an attempt to direct the line of questioning away from herself. She didn't want to talk. It was better if he did; after all he was the one who wanted to in the first place. She was just there to make up for the night before. That was it, she told herself, though not entirely believing it. "What have you been doing?"

Her second question followed so quickly after the first that Vincent didn't have time to answer. He looked away, licking his lips and rubbing his hands together nervously as he tried to think of where to start answering. "I…" he looked at her. "I've been back in New York for a year now. I haven't been doing much. It's been difficult finding work." He looked into her eyes. "It was really bad after I came home…"

His eyes stared into hers, penetrating into her soul as he spoke – mesmerising her, and then she heard the word 'home', and she knew where he was going and she had to stop him.

"Never mind, you obviously don't want to talk. I can see it's difficult so let's not go there," she backpedalled, retracting her question and trying to leave the conversation where it was. She didn't want to talk about then. She didn't want to talk about the war, about Afghanistan and all that happened there. She wanted to forget it. She had a new life now. She was normal again after so long and she wasn't going to let him take that away.

Vincent could sense her apprehension, and he could see the sudden tension in her neck as her tendon strained beneath her skin as she looked away. He wanted to rub his thumb against the angry sinew and ease its stress, but he didn't. Instead he took a deep breath and looked out how own window, his elbow on the sill and his hand playing with the stubble on his chin. He needed her to talk to him. She was the only one who could understand. He needed to talk too. It would be better when they talked. They'd be themselves again if they talked. There would be no more tension. The anxiety would disappear and the nightmare, his nightmares would end. He needed them to end.

He turned back to her sharply, his jaw clenching as he broached the conversation again. "Do you ever think of it? Of being back in Afghanistan?"

Catherine's heart was thumping against her ribcage as the silence grew from beside her. Would he leave it there? Would he let the past stay just that, the past? No. His question was a shock to her system and she had to swallow hard to catch her breath as the sudden image of fire and night flashed before her eyes.

"No."

His gaze never left her. "You're lying."

"Just drop it," she said gently, glancing at him for the briefest of moments before turning away.

"Fine." Vincent bit the inside of his lip as he thought of the question that burned the most inside him, the one he most needed an answer to. "Why did you never write me back?"

Catherine squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. There was only one question worse than the first and it was the one he had just asked.

"Catherine, why didn't you write me back?" Vincent asked. His tone was slightly firmer and more urging.

She still didn't answer. Her skin was hot and she could feel the anxiety building inside of her. If she didn't answer he'd get the point and drop it, she told herself.

Vincent had other ideas. He decided that whether she wanted to hear it or not, he was going to say it.

"When I got better, and I was able to hold a pen, I wrote to you. You never wrote back. I sent you letter after letter, Catherine, and you never even acknowledged them." His voice strained with the anger and hurt that he was trying to keep at bay, but she was there and she couldn't get away, and the more he looked at her back the more those feeling grew. He could finally know the truth. She couldn't ignore him like she had before, not when they were right there less than a foot apart.

"Vincent, don't do this," Catherine cautioned. It was becoming more difficult to breathe and she loosened the top button of her blouse agitated.

"Don't what? I'm just asking a question. One you can't seem to answer," his agitation was growing. "It isn't difficult. Just tell me why you never wrote me back. After everything we'd been through and after all the talks. I thought we were friends. Then you acted like I didn't exist." His voice was rising steadily and it he had to take several breaths to calm himself, but Catherine remained still and silent but her body stiffened.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell," he apologised. "Catherine," his voice was a gruff whisper, "just tell me. Why?" The force returned to his voice involuntarily.

She could hear his questions. She could hear the need for an answer that saturated his words, but she couldn't give it to him. She couldn't tell him why she had never written back, because doing that would mean admitting a lot of things she didn't want to. It meant unearthing that time and all the feelings and emotions that went along with it and she wasn't sure she could do to. No, she knew she couldn't do it. She wasn't going to open Pandora's Box when she'd finally found a place in her life that made sense. She was sorry for him, she could hear he needed to talk, but she wasn't the person. She wouldn't go there with him. She had barely survived it the first time. She wasn't going to let him take her back there and have it destroy her.

Vincent kept asking and the anxiety inside her grew until the car became too small and there was no air – she was suffocating.

Catherine's hands grabbed frantically for the handle of the car and the second they took hold, the door was opened and she jumped out and started walking.

She was beginning to hyperventilate. He heart was beating too fast. Sweat was beginning to form on her brow as she walked quickly, needing to get away from the car, from its closed space, from him and his conversation but her feet went this way and that, not sure where to go, before finding a straight line.

Her hand pushed her hair back away from her face as a sudden gust of wind sent it flying in every direction. If she kept walking she could walk away from him and leave the car, those questions and that time behind her. If she just kept walking she'd be safe, she thought, but she didn't get far.

He hadn't meant to get angry. He hadn't meant to raise his voice, but the way she sat there not saying anything and ignoring him, was like being back there again. He was suddenly sitting in the hospital hoping for a letter or a call that never came. He was alone again. She'd left him again. He wasn't asking for much, just answer to a question. Why couldn't she give him an answer? Why? He'd saved her life. He'd taken three bullets for her and she didn't even have the decency to write him back, to see if he was okay, to call or send a card. She erased him just like that – like he was nothing.

Then she was jumping out the car and Vincent's instincts took over. He couldn't let her escape. He couldn't. He was out the car a second later, his adrenaline racing through his veins as he rounded the hood and was after her. He caught her in four steps and grabbed her by both shoulders turning her entire body around him in a circle until she was backing the car and he was facing it.

"No! No running away. Just answer the question Catherine. Just answer it!" He was yelling. He didn't want to but he couldn't stop himself. Years of hurt were leaking out of him at a rapid rate and the deluge had no signs of stopping, it felt good.

The suddenness and speed at which he reached her turned Catherine's world around as he grabbed her and made her face him. She was shaking as he yelled at her, but she wasn't afraid. She understood his reasons but she had hers. Why couldn't he understand that? Why was he trying to force her? She shoved him away angrily and turned on her heels to leave.

He stumbled back with the force of her shove but he wasn't going to let it go, let her go. He caught her at the car, slamming the door closed as she tried to open it. "Just tell me Catherine! Damn it, just tell me!" he growled as he pinned her between the car and his body, both of his arms stationed at either side of her head, boxing her in.

He kept pressing. He kept pushing. She was trapped in that tiny space, where she could barely breathe and her head was spinning. Something finally snapped inside her and the calm façade she'd been wearing for over three years shattered. "Fine! Fine! You want to know why I didn't write you. Are you sure? Because once I say it I can't take it back." She was yelling.

"Yes! That's all I want to know," he said with lessened frustration now that it seemed he'd finally broken through and she was going to give him an answer. "Why, Catherine?"

"I wanted to forget, okay?" she yelled back at him. Her blood was boiling with anxiety and adrenaline. "I wanted to make that time, that place and everything and everyone one in it disappear. I wanted to forget it all. I wanted it to never have happened! I just wanted to go forward with my life and leave it all behind me!"

Her eyes burned into his as her words gutted him. His hands balled into fists by her face as he strained to contain the anguish her confession had brought him. His voice was steel when he finally responded, her hot breath washing over him as she tried to calm herself.

"Including me?" His head was down, his eyes on her shoes as he waited for her answer. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. It couldn't be true.

"Yes!"

Vincent had tried to convince himself of a thousand reasons why Catherine had disappeared from his life without a word. She had never gotten his letters. She had written him back but for some reason he never got them. He'd lied to himself for four years, but deep inside him, the thought that burned and grew with each passing day was the one he knew to be the truth – she had wanted it that way. He had wanted to believe otherwise but the sting of reality was always with him, though he hoped for some other explanation. His mouth became a thin line as he pushed himself away from the car and looked at her. His jaw clenched and unclenched as they started at one another, finally he shoved his hands in his pockets and with silent nod he walked away.

The words had come out of her so quickly, much faster than she could believe she could think, but once they were out they left a bitter taste in her mouth. How could she have said that? She shouldn't have said that. It was the truth she knew, but still, to say it to his face and see the pain in his eyes. It did something to her. He tried to hide it but she could see it in the way the muscles of his hands twitched just in her periphery, the way he couldn't look at her and the look on his face when he finally did. She'd hurt him again, but this time she was there to see it for herself and the sight was a smack to the face, a punch to the gut.

Catherine had tried to convince herself that Vincent moved on with his life easily, happily, once his letters stopped coming. She had pretended that he was somewhere enjoying his life, making his way in the world and had forgotten her and everything that had happened just as she was trying to do. Now she could see that what she did four years ago was haunting him even now. She had walked away from him when they had been so close, and she never had the courage to even explain why. She thought it would have been easier, as if she'd disappeared or never existed. She thought it would have been for the best for both of them, but as she looked into those familiar eyes she wondered if she'd been wrong. The thought made her sick.

"Vincent!" she called after him, her voice strained as she tried to regain her composure. He didn't turn around. "Vincent!" she called again and he just kept walking. He could hear her she knew but he still refused to answer her. She could go after him, but she didn't. Catherine watched as it was his turn to walk away from her, and unlike herself, he had the courage to do it despite her cries.

His silhouette grew smaller in the dark and Catherine rested her back against the car and slammed her head against the frame as her eyes closed. _God, why did I do that? Why did I say that?_ Her head popped up looking for him again but they only found darkness. He was gone. She stood erect, her eyes searching for any sign of him, but there was none. She slumped against the car as a feeling grew in the pit of her stomach, an unsettling and unexpected feeling – emptiness, at the thought that she would never see him again and shame for the pain she'd caused.

She lingered for a while, hoping against hope that he would come back, but he didn't. She sat on the hood of her car, her hands clasped between her knees and listened as Coney Island became quiet and the happy sounds of the patrons disappeared. She barely noticed the difference as the rides turned less and less and finally stopped all together. Her eyes were on the water – black and sleek and vast, going nowhere and everywhere at the same time. It was cold but she could barely feel it, all she could feel was the overwhelming emotions she hadn't felt in a long time threatening to take her over.

She breathed hard and batted her eyes fiercely trying to hold the tears at bay, but as her mind flashed to Vincent smiling on his back in the sand and her in his lap, and the Vincent who had just left her, the one with pain in his eyes – pain she had inflicted, the dams broke. Her breaths became sobs and the tears rolled freely for the first time in years, and for the first time in years she didn't try to fight them, she let them come as they may.

_Vincent_, she thought solemnly. _Vincent._

* * *

**Author's notes:**

So I did it! A new chapter before tomorrow's episode. I hope everyone likes it. Welcome to my new followers and thank you to all you steady reviewers and to my new reviewers as well. You're comments are like baked goods for me, I love them!

Is everyone as excited as I am for tomorrow night? I hope so. Valentine's seems to be holding lots of promise for all beasties out there.

As usual the music for this chapter : watch?v=LPXJXxfauis - Black Flies by Ben Howard. Youtube is your friend. Fantastic song. Listen to this version and not the one made to the BATB fan video, it's faster and doesn't have the same feeling as this one.

Thanks again everyone.

See you next chapter!


	6. Chapter 5 - See the Ghost

**Disclaimer: Beauty and The Beast (2012), and all its characters belong to the CW and the show's creators. I am just an avid fan who loves twisting the stories around.**

**Any reproduction of this story, in whole or in part, is strictly prohibited without the author's written consent.**

* * *

**Let My Soul Out**

**Chapter Five – See the Ghost**

It was Wednesday.

Catherine rolled over in her fresh white sheets, her eyes were puffy and red from lack of sleep, but there was nothing she could do about it. She threw her legs out from under the warmth and shivered slightly as they made contact with the cold wood floor. She'd slept with the window open the night before, after waking from another nightmare, covered in sweat and wanting nothing but the feeling of cool air against her skin. She rubbed her hands over her face as she tried to force some form of alertness into her body. It wasn't any use. The images still haunted her, even now when she was wide awake, she could see him. See them.

_It was dark and cold. She was alone, or thought she was until the sound of breathing crept into her consciousness – heavy breathing, from somewhere behind her, just outside of the light of the full moon. She couldn't make it out, but there was something out there. Something was watching her. She could feel it and her skin prickled under its gaze. Then she heard another sound – something else was out there. She'd been wrong, there wasn't one, there were many all around her. She turned in a circle trying to figure out their number, trying to see them in the dark, but her eyes failed her. _

"_Catherine…" a voice whispered her name from the void._

"_Catherine!" another called._

"_Over here, Catherine!" cried yet another. _

_She turned frantically, trying to follow the voices, but they eluded her and continued._

_Over and over they called her, tormented her. She wanted to know who was out there, but fear kept her glued to the spot, too terrified to step beyond her halo of moonlight. She could see the dust floating on the air as they circled her._

"_Who are you?" she yelled. "What do you want?"_

"_Catherine!" a voice replied._

"_Cat!" another echoed._

"_Did you forget us?" another whispered menacingly. _

"_I don't know who you are," Catherine yelled back. "What do you want?"_

"_You Catherine," was the unanimous reply._

"_Yes, you Catherine," came a hiss._

_Fear gripped her like a stranglehold to her throat. Her breathing was laboured, panicked. There were too many. There was nowhere to run. There was only darkness and their voices crying out her name over and over._

_She covered her hears to block out the noise._

"_You forgot about us…"_

"_Catherine…"_

"_Why did you leave us?"_

"_Catherine…"_

"_You forgot us…"_

"_You forgot…"_

"_Us…"_

"_You forgot us…"_

_Over and over they taunted her, their voices a crescendo, and then finally, suddenly, they were silent._

_She shook where she stood, and slowly lowered her hands from her ears – silence. She didn't know what was more terrifying, their cries or their silence coupled with the knowledge that they still watched. She could still feel their eyes on her. She watched the perimeter, looking for any sign of movement, but only found the dust that floated in the wake of their footfalls. Then she saw it in the dark, glowing ochre eyes peering out from the abyss and a growl from deep in something's throat._

_Then, one by one, they emerged._

_The tears streamed down her face immediately at the sight of them. It couldn't be, but it was, it was them._

"_Sabrina? Wade?" _

_She called their names as they appeared in turn – monsters, beastly shadows of their former selves. _

_They growled at her._

_She stood in the centre, surrounded by nightmarish creatures, by the beasts that were once her friends. She recognised them despite their altered features, their claws and teeth and eyes._

_They circled her, the circle growing smaller by the second._

"_How could you forget us Cat?" one growled angrily. "We would never have forgotten you."_

"_Sabrina?" she cried in recognition. "Sabrina, please. You have to understand…"_

"_You forgot us!" was the enraged reply. Then, like a grenade had gone off all over again, her friend's body jolted and fell bloody to the floor. _

_Catherine recoiled horrified, falling to the ground, as another monster sprang at her._

"_You thought you left us behind, but we've always been with you," it mocked. "You locked us in the darkness. You tried to force us into memory, but we're still here."_

"_Eric…"_

_He roared as if in pain – her commanding officer, who had fought beside her. Then he too fell, blood pouring from his body and his arm limp at his side. Catherine could only watch, paralysed._

_One by one they faced her. One by one they challenged her, and with each one she recognised she was forced to watch them die all over again. Six times she endured the horror, until finally she was alone, a sobbing heap in the dust._

"_Catherine…" the raspy voice called from the dark._

_She didn't want to look up; she didn't want to see anymore._

"_Catherine…" the voice called again, gently, soothing. It lured her._

_Trembling, she brought her eyes up from their hiding place behind her arm. "Vincent?"_

_The sound of his name drew him from the darkness. He stood tall, strong – normal. He was in his fatigues, his helmet under his arm as he stood across from her. He smiled that crooked smile and a wave of relief washed over her at the sight._

"_Vincent!" she yelled, running into his arms and sobbing into his chest._

"_What is it?" he asked, a clawed hand wrapping around her shaking shoulders. She noticed it and became still. Slowly, petrified, she raised her face to his._

"_Catherine…" he repeated her name as his glowing eyes bore into hers. She shoved him and moved away in a panic._

"_No," she cried. "No!"_

"_You made me one of them," he replied. "You forgot about me. You left me in the dark with them, alone. Why did you do that Catherine?" he asked as he circled her, his head bobbing lightly side to side like an animal watching its prey._

"_Vincent…" her voice cracked._

"_You made me one of them. You locked me away, but I was always here. We were always here." He moved closer. "We will never leave you. We will always be right here," the monstrous Vincent growled. "Until you let us go." _

"_What?" she whispered in confusion._

"_We will never leave until you let us go." He stepped backwards towards the darkness, the sound of growling behind him. They were back._

"_Vincent?"_

"_You put me here. I'll always be here," he said as he became himself once again and clawed hands reached out to grab him from the dark. "I'll always be in the dark until you let them go. Set me free Catherine."_

_They pulled him into the dark as her hand reached out to him. "Vincent!"_

Catherine shivered at the memory.

She sat still for a moment more, before smacking her hands against her thighs and pushing off the bed. It was the sixth time she'd had that dream and, despite her efforts, it wasn't getting any better.

It had been three weeks since that night near Coney Island. She hadn't heard or seen a sign of Vincent in that time, but she couldn't get him out of her head. She showered, in the fog that seemed to have come upon her ever since that day, dressed and then went to make breakfast.

"Hey," Heather replied as she poured a cup of coffee. When she looked up she couldn't help but comment. "Geez Cat, you look like crap. Is everything okay?"

Catherine sighed, "Thanks, that's what every woman wants to hear first thing in the morning." She took the cup of coffee her sister pushed across the countertop in her direction. She wrapped her fingers around it and allowed them to soak up the heat.

"Sorry, but you look a fright. Is it a case?" she asked, taking a seat and preparing to get the details of whatever was bothering her sister. She'd noticed it over the past few weeks, but this morning Cat looked the worse that she'd seen her in a long time.

"It's not a case," Catherine, was shocked at the fatigue in her own voice.

"Then what is it?" Heather urged – her concern evident. "Man troubles?" she asked with a waggle of her brow, but she knew better. She was trying to cheer her sister up, but Heather knew there was no guy in Cat's life, no matter how much she wished there was. Something else was bothering her older sibling and she wanted her to talk about it.

"No, not that either," Catherine laughed sarcastically before sipping her coffee. "I wish." She continued her chuckle; until it occurred to her that her sister was right. She did have man troubles, just not in the way Heather meant. The thought was sobering.

"Then what is it?"

Catherine looked at her sister's bright eyes and clean complexion. She admired the green and black polka-a-dot hair band perched on top of her head. Heather was still young, in so many ways, and she couldn't burden her with the truth, not when it meant she'd go back to looking at her like _that_ again.

"I'm fine. I probably just need to change my bed or something. I swear I feel every lump," she lied, convincingly.

"Really?"

"Yes! I promise. I'm perfectly fine. We just need to go bed shopping is all," Catherine shrugged off the conversation and continued sipping her coffee. It was bitter that morning, but it was just what she needed to wake herself up.

"Maybe if you put it to good use? Get someone to help you work those lumps out," Heather teased, and Catherine's eyes widened before they erupted in laughter.

"Ah…no. I don't think that will work," she countered.

"Just a suggestion. You might want to consider it." Heather smirked and then became serious. "I mean it Cat. You're alone all the time. It's not good."

Catherine, looked into her sister's eyes, the echoes of her concern reflecting back at her.

"I'm okay, Heather, really," she assured. Heather returned her statement with a forced smile as they both went quiet. Nothing was said for a while.

The two finished their coffees in peaceful silence, before Catherine grabbed her keys and headed out of the door. She had to get to work, she was on the early roster and Tess would be expecting her.

"I was going to make breakfast," Catherine confessed as she shimmied into her jack while trying to simultaneously pour her coffee into a portable container.

"You were?" Heather didn't even try to hide her surprise.

"Yeah," Catherine, confirmed as she stopped moving long enough o meet her sister's gaze. "I kinda…I kinda wanted it to be like mornings with Mom. You know how we used to love that."

Quiet settled between the two sisters as they looked at each other. They didn't talk about their mother much, the memory of her loss painful, and the good memories from before, even worse. Catherine waited for Heather to say something, but she didn't, and she realised that whatever conversation she was hoping to have, wasn't going to happen. "Well," she set her mug in the sink and closed the lid on her portable coffee. "I'll see you later."

"Bye Cat," Heather replied sadly as Catherine walked out the door.

Catherine drove to work and found herself watching the streets – searching the sidewalks for a familiar jacket and messy brown hair. "Stop it," she scolded herself in frustration. "Get a hold of yourself." She drove the rest of the way to work with her head straight and the music turned up load – she wanted to drown her own thoughts out, and it worked – for the most part. It was hard to think straight with rap music blaring in your ears.

She pulled into her spot in front of the station and jumped out, eager to see what cases waited for her, anything to take her mind off of…

_Vincent?_

Her eyes flashed to a familiar jacket and baseball cap. She rushed after the figure as they stalked away from the precinct.

"Vincent!" she said with a small smile of relief on her face, as she grabbed his shoulder to turn him around.

"What?" the bearded man asked in confusion at her sudden appearance. Catherine backed away immediately.

"I'm sorry. I…I thought you were someone else." She turned and walked away.

"I can be whoever you want me to baby!" the man called from behind her. She didn't turn around.

The day passed, shrouded in the fog that refused to let her go – refused to clear. Tess studied her with watchful eyes, and she knew her partner was worried about her, but being Tess, she was waiting for her to make the first move. She wished she could explain things to her, but she couldn't, not without bringing up all the things she was trying to forget – the things she'd been running from all these years.

"I'm out of here," Catherine chirped, as she shoved the last file in the completed tray – she'd file it tomorrow, or some other time, but at that moment she just wanted to get out of there.

"Good for you. I still have two piles of this stuff to get done," Tess complained, as she sighed defeated.

"See, it pays to have no social life," Catherine teased.

"Well I'm sorry, but I'll take the social life over the paperwork any day."

"I know, that's why the paperwork has caught up to you." Catherine smirked as she slipped her arms in her jacket.

"Hey! Where are you headed to?" Tess questioned. "Home? I thought you said Heather's boyfriend was coming over for dinner tonight?"

"Damn! I forgot." She sighed. "I guess its dinner at McDonalds for me tonight," she joked as she patted Tess' arm sympathetically. "Hope you get out of here before two."

"Oh I will, believe me." She could hear the determination in Tess' voice and it made her smile. She waved silently and headed towards the stairs.

Catherine had only taken four steps when she heard the sound of feet behind her and the warmth of a friendly voice.

"What was that I heard about you and McDonalds?" Evan asked as he jogged down the stairs to her side. They easily fell into step.

"Yeah, I was just telling Tess that I'm headed to "Mickey D's" for a late dinner," Catherine admitted as she glanced at her watch. It was after ten.

"McDonalds? Isn't that place for children?" Evan teased. They reached the last step and he gently took her hand, turning her to face him. Catherine's face reflected her slight confusion.

"What?"

"Have dinner with me."

Catherine looked around nervously. "Evan…"

"No. Don't say my name unless, 'sure' or 'yes' is going to follow it," he joked.

"Evan…"

"Cat. You're hungry. I'm hungry. It's late. It makes no sense that we should both eat alone. Though if I were I'd definitely pick a better place than McDonalds." He smirked at her and she returned it. "Have dinner with me," he said more seriously.

She was going to say no, to make an excuse for why she couldn't have dinner with him, but just as the words were about to leave her lips she thought of Heather's words. _You're alone all the time. It's not good._ She was right of course, but to hear her sister say it – the concern in her voice. The decision to accept or decline Evan's invitation was made.

"Where to?" she said with a smile and Evan beamed back at her.

"There's this little place I know. Nothing fancy, but the food is great." A wave of confidence washed over him and he placed an arm around Catherine's shoulders as he led her from the precinct, "Trust me, you'll love it."

They travelled in separate cars, as usual Catherine had opted to driver her own, and she followed him through the streets of New York until the came to a little quiet corner in Brooklyn.

"What is this place?" Catherine asked as she locked her door and walked towards where Evan waited.

"It's a little Russian place my friend Katya took me too once," he said looking up at the hole-in-the wall restaurant. "I don't actually know what it's called, but it's the best Russian food in New York."

Catherine smiled as her eyes followed his. "Wasn't Katya your flight attendant girlfriend? The one you had reassigned after three months," Catherine teased, knowing full well that she was.

Evan blushed slightly. "You remember do you?" Another smile was his answer. "Don't hold it against me."

"Don't worry. I won't." They entered the restaurant.

They were halfway through their dinners, seated by the large window that acted as the restaurant front, and submerged in conversation. The rain had begun to pour about fifteen minutes before and you could hardly see out, but somehow it made the entire place seem cosier.

"Mmmm…this…is really good. You should try it," Catherine stated between mouthfuls as she devoured her pelmeni. "Oh my gosh," she moaned. "Here," she said as she shoved her fork towards Evan. "You have to." He smiled and obeyed.

"Wow….wow…that is good," he echoed her compliments and then cut a cube of his lamb for her to try. "Sample this," he offered and Catherine leaned closer to grab the morsel.

"Again…so good. You were right. This place is great."

"See, I told you. Aren't you glad you decided to join me?" He returned to eating his lamb, while Catherine realised that she was glad she'd joined him.

"Yeah, yeah I am." She watched him eat.

He looked up at her with modest amusement. "I'm glad you changed your mind."

They talked and talked, and Catherine found herself laughing for the first time since Coney Island. She was amazed how Evan was able to bring the sun out from the fog and clear it all. She was laughing at his imitation of Obi-wan Kenobi, when suddenly a figure outside in the rain caught her attention. She noticed it because it seemed to be watching her – _like the beasts in the darkness_. The thought caused her skin to prickle and she looked away, not wanting Evan to notice.

Minutes passed and the figure continued to watch. The rain was still pouring and she couldn't make out their features, but as the evening began to wind down and the rain began to ease, she saw – with startling clarity, that the face that peered back at her was one she knew. _Vincent_.

Her body involuntarily leaned closer to the glass as recognition sank in. It had been three weeks, yet there he was outside a Russian restaurant with no name, watching her. A strange sensation filled her, but one she wasn't sure she wanted to name.

"Catherine?" Evan's voice intruded.

"Sorry. What?"

"Do you want another drink?"

"Sure." She watched him order another round before her gaze returned to the window. He was gone. Vincent was gone.

The rest of the meal passed in pleasant banter and a few jokes made on Evan's part, but as it grew later and the time for them to leave neared, she felt a strange urgency inside her – anticipation of what, she wasn't sure.

"Thank you for a lovely evening Cat," Evan smiled down at her.

"I should be thanking you."

"For what?"

"For the best night I've had in weeks."

He smirked proudly. "Well in that case, why don't you let me do it again sometime?" His head leaned towards her slightly, closing the space between them.

"We'll see."

"We will," he replied, still smiling. "I'm very patient you know."

"I know," she replied with a smile as she turned and unlocked her door. "Goodnight Evan."

"Goodnight Catherine." He held the door as she got in behind the wheel. Then he walked towards his car.

Catherine pretending to be looking through her bag for something as Evan walked away. She didn't want it to seem as if she was just sitting there waiting – for it was exactly what she was doing. She had seen Vincent. He had been there, she was sure of it, and she was going to find him.

She waited for Evan's car to pull off and disappear around the corner before she got out. The wind seemed colder suddenly, and she pulled her jacket closer around herself. She scanned the perimeter for any sign of him but there was none. She ran anxious fingers through her hair as she began walking, her eyes searching the dark recesses for any sign of Vincent.

"Hey! Hey beautiful," a male voice slurred from behind her, but Catherine didn't look around.

"Hey! I saw you…inside…I saw you," he continued. She could hear his footsteps behind her.

Catherine turned, annoyance painted on her face, as she recognised one of the guys from the restaurant – he had been nursing drinks at the bar the entire time she was there and he was obviously worse for wear.

"Look, I'm busy. Bug off," she replied coolly and turned to continue her search.

"Wait!" he pulled at her arm and Catherine immediately shoved him off, fire in her eyes at his boldness.

"Don't…do that," she said steadily, as she tried to keep her anger in check. She was trained; she could hurt him without even breaking a sweat.

"I just thought since you…and that guy…yah know. We should maybe go somewhere?"

She looked at him incredulously. "Are you really trying to hit on me? Seriously?" She scoffed and walked away. She had more important things to do, like find Vincent. He was nearby, she knew it. She just had to find him.

The sound of footfalls behind her instantly put her on alert, and Catherine turned around to find the same lush on her heels, turning just has he made another unsteady grab for her clothing.

She saw him before she heard him, a split second and the drunk from the restaurant went from standing in front of her to lying splayed on the pavement, knocked out.

Everything seemed to have slowed in that moment. She was standing by the darkened alley and then suddenly Vincent was there. She saw his hand rise into a fist and connect with the guys jaw, instantly rendering him unconscious – then he was on the ground motionless. She looked at Vincent in shock. "What the hell did you do?" she yelled at him, and dropped to the passed out man's side to make sure he was breathing. He was.

She looked up at Vincent, confusion and frustration on her face, but inside there was another small feeling that she couldn't admit – relief.

She shook her head in disbelief as she heard the sound of voices exiting the restaurant. Just what she needed. If Vincent got himself locked up again there was no helping him. "Help me," she instructed and Vincent moved into place as Catherine attempted to prop the guy up by the wall as if he'd simply passed out from the alcohol.

"Get in the car," she seethed as she stalked towards the vehicle, unlocking it from a distance so he could get in – his legs were longer and he was closer to it than she was.

Once inside the car Catherine didn't hesitate, she turned on the engine and tore away from the curb and into the street. She wanted to get as far away from that scene as possible. The guy was extremely drunk and she'd barely seen Vincent, it was unlikely he had before he was knocked out.

She raced through the light late-night traffic, silence her companion as Vincent sat beside her. She wasn't sure where she was going but she knew she had to get away_. What the hell was he thinking doing that?_ She glanced at Vincent. He was staring at her. She looked back at the road.

Catherine didn't stop until she reached a red-light. The rain had begun to pour again and visibility was awful as she peered out the windscreen, willing the light to change.

"Are you going to say something?" Vincent asked, and Catherine's entire body tensed at the sound of his voice. She turned slowly to face him.

"What on earth were you thinking doing that?" She glared at him. "Are you trying to get yourself a one-way ticket to prison?"

"He was harassing you…"

"Vincent, I'm a cop. I'm trained to handle assholes like that. I don't need you protecting me. That's my job!" she yelled at him.

"Excuse me for trying to help," Vincent yelled back.

"What were you doing there? I haven't seen or heard from you since…" her voice faltered slightly as she recalled the state he had left her in that night near Coney Island. "I haven't heard from you."

Vincent scoffed bitterly. "Doesn't feel good to have someone act like you don't exist does it?" he retorted and his words were a slap in the face.

"You didn't answer my question. What were you doing there? Were you following me?" she questioned angrily. This was going all wrong but she couldn't figure out how to fix it. She had wanted to find him and apologise, to make him see that she was sorry and to somehow repair the mess she'd made. It wasn't working out that way as they sat shouting at one another, their raised voices getting the attention of a passer-by who stopped directly in front of the car to look at them. Catherine noticed and went quiet immediately. She didn't need some Good Sam reporting a domestic dispute and getting her a visit from one of the patrol officers. The figure lingered for only a moment longer, the rain and the large umbrella they had obscuring their features, before they finally moved on.

Once the passer-by was gone Catherine sighed, closing her eyes against the sudden rush of emotions as she tried to regain her composure. Why did he unsettle her so entirely?

"Look, I don't want to fight," she said with fatigue in her voice. "I just…I wanted to know why you were there tonight? Where have you been?" She looked at him, all trace of anger and frustration gone. He returned her gaze and breathed deeply.

"I couldn't stay away," his voice was barely above a whisper as he looked at the dash and then to her face. "I couldn't stay away from you Catherine. Seeing you that day at the precinct, it was the first time, in a long time, that I felt any kind of peace. The first time in years I could sleep at night and not wake up in a cold sweat."

Catherine shivered indiscernibly at his confession as she recalled her recent sleepless nights. It was the first time she noticed how hollow Vincent's cheeks seemed or how tired his eyes appeared. It was the first time she realised that he'd had it worse than she had, and she could see it.

Her hand moved of its own accord, drawn by some distant memory of a time long gone, as her delicate fingers grasped his as they rested on his thigh. She squeezed it gently. "I'm so sorry," she breathed as her voice cracked. "You have no idea."

Vincent's posture straightened at her touch and he looked into her eyes. There, somewhere behind the hazel haze, she was there, the Catherine he had known. He could see her. He nodded slightly, his action a comforting one, as he gently closed his fingers around hers in return.

He could feel it, something in the atmosphere around them shifted, and he knew this was the start of something new. What? He wasn't sure. But it was there as Catherine gave him a weak smile.

"I missed you," he confessed.

"I missed you too." Catherine's eyes glistened as emotion tried and failed to win her over.

They looked into each other's eyes as the rain continued to fall, then the light turned green and Catherine let go, returning her hands to the steering wheel.

"Where to?" she asked, not entirely sure where she was going.

"Home," Vincent replied.

_Home_, she thought nervously. "Okay. Lead the way."

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**Author's notes:**

Hey everyone! Sorry this chapter was so long in coming. Work and university had me completely bogged down. I finished the chapter over a week ago but I like to do a review before posting.

Did you guys get to watch the last episode? I hope so! The episode took me through a lot of emotions with Vincent killing Joe's brother - which could only mean more trouble for him, BUT my great consolation was the kiss! Finally!

As usual the music for this chapter watch?v=SO8kTqS7jXs - Now Is the Start by A Fine Frenzy. Youtube is your friend.

Thanks again everyone for your comments and messages. I appreciate them all.

See you next chapter!


	7. Chapter 6 - Say You Will Save Me

**Disclaimer: Beauty and The Beast (2012), and all its characters belong to the CW and the show's creators. I am just an avid fan who loves twisting the stories around.**

**Any reproduction of this story, in whole or in part, is strictly prohibited without the author's written consent.**

* * *

**Let My Soul Out**

**Chapter Six – Say You Will Same Me**

The rain was still pouring when Catherine pulled up in front of the warehouse. She stopped the car but didn't turn off the engine as she peered up through the windscreen. "This is where you live?" She tried not to sound surprised but failed miserably. She looked over at him, a perplexed expression on her face. She had been a little confused when he started giving her directions to an old industrial area of the city, but she still hadn't expected this. _A warehouse? He lives in a warehouse._ She stared at him intently. "Explain."

He'd been preparing himself for her questions. He had watched the steady change on her face as they left the inhabited areas of the city and headed for the industrial area where he lived. The change in her expression was clear evidence of her confusion. He knew it would be difficult to explain, and frankly, surprisingly, he wanted to explain. He watched her with an ever keen eye as she drove. Her full attention was on the road and she didn't even notice him staring, and he was glad for it. Her concentration gave him a chance to look at her, really look at her, close up. She looked tired. He noted the slight bags under her eyes and the sallow look to her cheeks. She hadn't looked like that the last time he'd seen her, or at least he didn't remember her that way, but time had a way of altering perception. He studied her more closely, taking in every nuance of her appearance. He was so engrossed in his silent observations that he didn't even notice when they had arrived outside his place, but when they stopped, he was quick to redirect his gaze.

He could feel her staring at him intently, waiting for her answer, and he took a breath before attempting to respond. "It isn't so bad. The place is warm, has running water and all the perks. You'll see."

"You want me to go in there?"

"Yeah, that was what I was thinking."

Catherine blinked rapidly and looked at the building once more. "I'm sorry. Vincent, it's an old chemical plant. A chemical plant?" She was utterly baffled.

Vincent remained still, watching her closely as she expressed her confusion. He smiled at her flummoxed expression.

"Look, give it a chance. You may be surprised."

She looked at him incredulously, shaking her head in disbelief. "Fine. Lead on."

Vincent smiled and popped the door open, running through the rain towards the entrance of the building, Catherine was not far behind him, he could hear her footfalls slapping through the puddled that dotted the area. He was suddenly reminded of a night of rainy patrolling, when he often took the lead and Catherine followed. She'd often want to take charge but as the senior officer it was his duty to lead the way, besides he'd rather be the first to step into the fray instead of her.

He had protected her as much as he could then, a trait that the night's events had proven hadn't changed, and as he watched her running towards him he found himself smiling at the memory.

Catherine was soaked through by the time she reached Vincent. He waited for her, holding the door open as she ran through into the cold innards of the outwardly derelict building. Once inside he locked the door behind them. Catherine looked around baffled. The interiors were void of anything resembling a home. There was no furniture, only puddles, half rotted light fixtures hanging from the ceiling, remnants of machinery and windows with broken panes.

"Vincent?" She looked at him with a quizzical gaze.

He smirked, his wet hair clinging to his forehead. "This way."

He led her through the labyrinth of pillars and turns until they reached two large wooden doors, secured with a padlock and a warning. KEEP OUT. As they approached he could feel Catherine's eyes on him, watching his every movement. He halted at the door and turned to face her, a weak smile on his face. "Here we are." He unlocked the door and held it open for her. "After you."

Catherine raised a questioning brow at Vincent's theatrics, extending his hand like Vanna White presenting the letters on Wheel of Fortune, but after a moment's consideration, she walked inside. What greeted her was surprising to say the least. The interior had every luxury a single man could desire, from a flat screen television, Xbox and tacky neon signs. Catherine couldn't help but laugh.

"Wow, this is so not what I expected in here to look like." She looked at him and smirked, her dark wet and almost black as it clung to the skin of her neck.

"Wait until you see the rest of the place." He walked towards her, "Let me give you the tour." Vincent took her hand and led her throughout the building. The lower level housed the entertainment area and his 'workshop' in the dark recess. Upstairs served as a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and dining room for him – the open plan tactfully divided to give him some privacy.

"Make yourself at home. I'll get you a towel." He walked towards the bathroom, leaving Catherine alone. He hesitated at the door, the sudden feeling that she would run away or miraculously disappear clawing at his stomach. He took a breath and went to see about some towels.

Catherine watched Vincent disappear, her stomach was a mess of butterflies, and she began walking around to calm them. She looked at the simple furniture, he'd obviously spent more on the television that he had on his other fixtures, and she found herself smirking at that. A cold breeze blew through an open window and she shivered slightly, pulling her jacket closer around herself and folding her arms across her chest as she continued her polite inspection, moving the few magazines she found on the table and look through some bills on the counter.

"Here you go," Vincent's voice interrupted as he unfolded a large green. He was almost to her and she smiled to suppress the nervous flutter that grew inside her, the flutter that came with being caught – though she hadn't really been prying too much.

"Thanks," she replied as he brought the towel around her shoulders and wrapped it around her. He stared at her for a moment and Catherine wondered what he was thinking, but as quickly has he had come he was gone.

"Beer?" he asked, already on his way to the fridge.

"Sure." She rubbed the towel through her hair to dry it, subtly inhaling the scent of the fabric softener. It smelled like springtime and reminded her of summers by the lake house, before they sold it after her mother died. The pleasant memory was ruined instantly, and she moved the fabric away from her nose and continued to dry her hair, as she moved towards Vincent.

She was there, Vincent still found it hard to believe, and had to suppress a smile as he pulled two beers from the fridge and made quick time opening them. When he turned around she was right there and he wordlessly offered her a bottle, which she took with a soft 'thanks,' before they in turn put their bottles to their heads.

The silence continued uninterrupted for several moments, before the detective in Catherine could not be restrained any longer. She slid on to one of the bar stools that circled the makeshift island and with one final swallow for courage, she began.

"Vincent, how did you get here? And I don't mean in New York, I mean living in a warehouse and winding up in my precinct at an alarming frequency." She chuckled nervously. "What happened?"

What happened?

Vincent had asked himself that a thousand times, and come up with a thousand answers at one point or another, but now he knew, and he accepted what was. He chugged down his beer and turned to the fridge for two more, opening them both, before he answered. Like she had before him, Vincent found a bar stool close to her and took a seat. This was a long story, and painful at some points, but she would understand. If anyone could, she would.

"When I woke up in the hospital I didn't remember much. The doctors told me I was very lucky to be alive and that I must have been very strong to survive such an ordeal. I couldn't feel lucky." He stared at the bottle in his hand, eyes fixed on it but not seeing the glass but the past. "I asked for you and they told me you'd been discharged weeks before, but you were okay. I can't tell you how relieved I felt."

He sipped his beer, his first tightening slightly around the contours of the bottle as he proceeded. "Then the nightmares started. Every night, sometimes even when I was awake I saw these…visions…memories of what happened that day. I couldn't stop seeing them – their faces and their empty eyes just staring at me. I tried to hide it. I thought they'd go away." He looked over at Catherine and the expression on her face was one of recognition. She'd had the dreams too. He knew it. "That's when I wrote you that first letter. I wanted to know you were okay. I wanted to hear from you but I didn't have an address or number, so I called a friend in the military office and got your address. I could have called I guess, but writing seemed easier than saying out loud what was happening to me." His eyes never left her face, the glimmer of shock and fear that peaked out from behind her hazel orbs and the shame.

"I wrote you and wrote you. You never wrote back. And the dreams, they wouldn't stop. Eventually I was discharged and I signed up for another tour."

"You went back?" Catherine's voice was barely a whisper at the surprise of his statement. "You went back to Iraq?" Her eyes stung but she refused to cry.

"I had to. I thought that maybe somehow it would help. You know, going back and face your fears. It didn't," his head hung and he took another swig of his beer. "It made it worse. We found ourselves in a fire fight and I froze. I couldn't function. I couldn't even move. I almost got myself killed. After that I was discharged with Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome and sent back home. The army can't use a guy who can't pull the trigger. I was a liability and I knew it." He put the bottle to his head again and found it empty. He looked at it in his hands and scoffed. It was empty, just like he felt. He put it aside.

"Everything was different when I came home. My dad had died while I was in Iraq, my brothers were already gone. I had no family left. I found it hard to talk to people. The army gave me the name of a counsellor but I never used it. I couldn't talk to a stranger. My friends were all happy to have me back but I just…I couldn't feel it and because I couldn't' feel it I couldn't talk to them. I couldn't feel happy. I just felt…empty." He looked at Catherine, hoping to see recognition, understanding – anything, but her face was pale and still. He continued.

"They tried for a while, but most of them gave up, except for JT – my best friend. He stuck it out with me. I tried being normal, but I couldn't. I'd get so angry and wonder why things turned out the way they did. Why did the best bunch of people I've ever known die or walk away. Why my brothers had to die. My father." He saw Catherine shift uncomfortably beside him but he pushed on. The more he talked, the better he seemed to feel, even though all of his memories were painful. It felt good to let the pain out.

"I couldn't hold down a job. My temper became unpredictable. I was always on the defensive. I was always on edge, always ready for someone to attack. One night I got drunk and smashed up my apartment," he sniggered bitterly. "I got myself evicted. I realised I was a menace to people and upsetting to be around, so I found this place. I bought it fixed it up with JT's help and I decided to live out here. I had my military pension and the money I'd saved up before I joined the army, when I was a doctor and my life made sense. I thought it would be best this way and that somehow I would get a grip on the dreams and myself. Somehow I'd be me again." He looked at Catherine. "It didn't work. The dreams kept coming, the sleepless nights, the cold sweats and anxiety. The only thing that made it better was when I was drunk. So that's what I did. JT, he tried to listen but he couldn't understand what it was like. You know? Not like you can." He reached out for Catherine, his hand closing round hers, she squeezed his hand back.

"I'm so sorry Vincent." She looked at their hands and couldn't help but think that if something had happened to him in Iraq that she'd never have known. She never imagined he would go back. She knew she couldn't. What if he had died? The thought sent a sickening feeling through her stomach. He'd suffered alone while she'd had her family beside her to help, or at least try to. He'd reached out to her and she'd abandoned him too. How could she live with herself? The shame was dismantling her inside, and she couldn't find the words to say. Nothing seemed right.

He hesitated but is eagerness pushed him forward. He needed to feel some connection. He needed to know he wasn't alone. "Do you ever dream of them? Do you ever think about that night?"

Her eyes immediately flew to his at the question. "No," she lied. "Never. It's in the past." She slowly pulled her hand away from his not wanting him to touch her in her deception. She turned slowly, rising to her feet to walk away. She felt for him she did, but she wasn't going to let that feeling bring up those that were even worse. She wouldn't. She needed to get out of there. She knew what he wanted. He kept saying it after all, for her to understand – she did, but she wasn't going to unearth those painful feelings. Not for him. Not for anyone. Her feet began to move away.

"Catherine," Vincent called her name in urgency. Sensing her wish to flee he grabbed her hand, halting her if only for the moment. "This is the first time I've been able to talk about this to anyone. And I know. I know you know what I'm talking about. And I think you haven't had someone to talk to about it either."

She shrank away, his words too close to truth to bear. "No. You're wrong. I haven't had anything like that. I'm fine." Her denial sounded false even to her, but still she held her ground.

"Don't lie to me Catherine. I know you. You're one of the few people in this world I can say that about, and the only person I know can understand what I'm talking about. Don't…don't stand here and lie to me when I can see it in your eyes. You know what I've been feeling. I know you have to have had the same experience. It can't just be me. You loved those guys like I loved them. They were family. Eric, Wade, Sabrina…"

"Don't!" Catherine warned as the panic and memories of her last nightmare came frightful to mind. "Don't talk about them." She pulled away, but Vincent wouldn't let go.

"Catherine, please. Don't do this. Don't pretend with me. That night, something broke inside me and I know it had to have been the same for you. It was like losing my entire family all at once. Something in me shattered and I can't seem to fix it on my own. I need your help, but you can't help me if you won't admit to what I know you know is true. Please Catherine." He stepped closer to her, like a man attempting to approach a deer that at any moment would turn and flee into the woods never to be seen again. Slowly, he sank on to the bar stool closest to her, pulling her gently towards him. "It feels as if there is some beast hibernating inside me that comes out when I least expect it. A monster filled with anger and pain that I just can't satisfy."

His words were the final straw. She had to leave. She had to go now. A beast? A monster inside him? It was as if her dream was coming to life and she wasn't about to stick around and watch Vincent transform into that glowing-eyed creature from her nightmare. She wasn't.

She snatched her hand away quickly, grabbing her keys in one movement as she swept from the kitchen towards the stairs and her escape. "I have to go," she barely muttered in her haste to escape him, his words and the feelings and memories they evoked. She didn't want to go to that place. She wanted it to stay in the past – forgotten.

She hadn't gotten far before Vincent was on top of her, forcing her to stop with his body, enclosing himself around her as he advanced and she retreated, the cold wall bringing their dance to a standstill. She had nowhere to run. She was trapped between him and the wall with no room to move or breathe. Every breathe she took she inhaled his scent, a rich musk mixed with aftershave and his laundry detergent.

"Talk to me!" he demanded, his face inches away from her own. She looked at his chest for fear prohibited her from looking at his face, and the ochre eyes she imagined she might find there. "Look at me! Talk to me!"

Panic was in chest, a fear that if she left she might never come back. Perhaps it was the fear that she might be telling the truth, that he truly was alone in this and there was no one who could understand what he'd been through and was still experiencing. If that was the case then what? What did it mean for him? Was he doomed to spend the rest of his life like this? Was he to remain lost in the nightmare that was that night, and haunted by the faces of those who no longer breathed? _No!_ No. She knew what he was talking about, she was just lying. Why was she lying? He had to make her tell the truth. He had to stop feeling like a lonely madman. He had to.

"Look at me! Don't lie to me. You've never lied to me, don't start now. You were the one person I knew could understand. Don't pretend you don't. Look at me! Talk to me!"

His voice was raspy and rough in her ear and Catherine shivered from it. She felt trapped. She wanted out and she pushed against him frantically as she felt her chest begin to tightly and the anxiety begin to grip her throat. She couldn't breathe. He was stealing her breath with every second. She had to get away. Frantically she pushed and hit against his chest, but he didn't move. Instead, he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her held, his hands firm yet gently in their grasp. "Let me go!" she screamed, still unable to look at him.

Vincent's heart was aching as he watched her feeble struggles. Normally he might have just let her go, if he was still just a doctor and had never been to war – but he wasn't that man anymore. He had seen things he wished never to see again and he knew hurt and pain, even well as someone like Catherine was able to hide it, he still saw it. He saw himself in her. His cracks were visible but hers were well hidden, but it took a broken vessel to know another broken vessel. He wanted to help her as much as he wanted to help himself, and neither of them would ever get what they wanted, unless she admitted the truth – until she talked to him.

"I would never hurt you Catherine. You know that. Please, just look at me," he whispered as he leaned closer to her. "Please, just talk to me. That's all I want. That's all I need. Please."

She had stilled, no longer struggling against him as her chest heaved from the adrenaline trying to process its way through her bloodstream and the position in which she found herself. His words, so soft and pain-filled, penetrated deep inside her, finding a place she hid from everyone else – the place where she still hurt and was still afraid. Slowly she raised her eyes to his until they finally met.

There was a lot that could be told by someone's eyes. Whether they were in love, in pain or frightened, it could all be found there. In that moment, both Vincent and Catherine saw themselves for the first time in a long time – reflected in the eyes of someone who truly understood.

"Thank you," he whispered, but Catherine was unable to respond. His fingers twitched against the soft skin of her wrists. He wanted to let her go but he was still afraid that she might try to run. There was also the comfort of the steady pulse beneath her skin just under his fingers, a connection to her heart that seemed to race in time with his.

"You can trust me Catherine. I would never betray you. You know that. You know me. You know me better than anyone. Please," he urged as he slowly slid her arms down the wall to her side, his hands slipping into hers as he rested his head against hers. "Please talk to me."

He waited silently, but eagerly for her reply, the warmth of her breath comforting as it caressed his face and he inhaled each one as she did his.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

Hey everyone! Sorry this chapter was SO long in coming, life and university demanded my attention. Gotta love examines, reports and presentations.

Anyway.

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I really got to touch on some emotions with them while writing it and I know there will be a few more such chapters in the future as these two wonderful characters develop and come to deal with their respective issues.

I hate to admit but I am now three episodes behind in BATB! Shocking I know, but unavoidable. I'll be running a BATB marathon over the next day or two to get myself caught up and to hear what other awesome music the show is using to engage our senses.

That being said, you know I have to leave you with some listening inspiration. Here is the song for this chapter watch?v=kiqIush2nTA - Don't Save Me by Haim. Youtube is your friend.

Thanks again everyone for your comments and messages. I appreciate them all. If I didn't reply to you individually I do apologise. I try to respond to everyone but sometimes one or two might slip me by, but that doesn't mean it wasn't appreciated.

Please forgive any typos. I try to pick them up in my review, but sometimes they get by me since I know what I meant to say.

See you next chapter!


	8. Chapter 7 - Facing Fears

**Disclaimer: Beauty and The Beast (2012), and all its characters belong to the CW and the show's creators. I am just an avid fan who loves twisting the stories around.**

**Any reproduction of this story, in whole or in part, is strictly prohibited without the author's written consent.**

* * *

**Let My Soul Out**

**Chapter Seven – Facing Fears**

Catherine felt like a caged bird. Her heart beat frantically in her chest and her every instinct told her to run, to get as far away as possible from that room, from Vincent and everything he was trying to make her feel. His hands held her firmly. There was nowhere to go and she thought that she'd pass out at any moment from the lack of oxygen, but she didn't. The more he talked the more rapid her breathing became and yet the quieter that little voice that told her to run grew. It didn't make sense, but logic wasn't the first thing on her mind, his pain was.

Anguish – that was the only way to describe the tone of Vincent's words. He was desperate. Wanting something she could give, but wouldn't. He wanted her to understand and she did. She wished she didn't. The gentle whisper of his voice in her ear, the warmth of his body – so close, it should all scare her, but it didn't. He pleaded and pleaded and his words reached in and pulled her eyes to his finally. She gazed into herself as she looked at the hazel and brown flecks of his eyes and saw the pain she knew too well. She wanted him to know she was sorry, and to understand that she knew how he felt and what he had been going through, but unlike him she didn't want to face it. He had no idea what it had been like for her after she came back, broken and lost and missing something – afraid. Talking about it only made her seem more unstable and insane. She didn't want to go back to that.

When she had first come home, her father and sister had been there to take her in and help her get on her feet. Still, for those first few months she didn't think it possible. There were many days when she didn't talk and barely ate. She would sit in the window seat of her old bedroom in her father's house and look out on Central Park, doing nothing. She would feel nothing. She would see the people walking their dogs and playing with their children, and she couldn't seem to feel it. It was as if some part of her that made it possible to understand that joy, had been left behind on a hill covered in sand and under a clear sky and beautiful moon. She couldn't seem to get it back. She tried to talk to her sister, but Heather – as loving and supportive a sister as she was wasn't able to understand. She would look at her as if she was about to crack and that was the worst part of it all – the way they looked at her. She would sit at the table at dinner and feel their eyes watching her every move. They monitored her as if she was going to throw herself out the window at any moment or lose it and kill them all in their beds. She hated feeling like the Bertha Rochester in the house.

_Please, Vincent. Don't make me talk about this._

Her eyes pleaded with him, but he closed his and rested his forehead gently upon hers, and the action cause a simultaneous exhalation from them both.

"Do you remember the way we used to talk before?" Vincent's voice broke the silence several moments later. "Do you remember how we'd laugh and talk about our favourite places and things?"

She nodded her head silently. She did remember. How could she forget? She had tried to, but it never quite worked.

"Do you remember those really still nights, when the wind barely moved and we were so far out from the others on patrol, that all you could hear was the sound of our feet in the dirt? It was so peaceful. Sometimes it was hard to imagine that we were in a war then." He squeezed her hand gently. "Do you remember?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"What do you remember?" He urged gently, wanting nothing more than to hear her voice and go back to that time when life made sense, as crazy as it may seem under the circumstances.

"I remember sitting in the back of the truck hiding after our first engagement with the enemy. I remember being so scared and not wanting anyone to see. Then you showed up and jumped in there with me. You didn't say a word at first. You didn't rib me like I expected. Instead you waited a moment and then said that the first time you had actual combat, you threw up when it was over and the fright hit you. You said it was good to be scared. Being scared kept you sharp, because you knew what you could lose. You told me I had heart and we spent the rest of the night just sitting next to each other and saying nothing."

Vincent smiled at the memory. "I remember that. When I realised you weren't with the others I knew that you were probably trying to cope with what had happened that day. We all need someone at some point. I decided to be that person for you. You trusted me then."

"I still trust you."

"Do you? Then be honest with like you would have been back then. Tell me what you can't tell anyone else."

Catherine's mind wandered to every good experience she'd had in Afghanistan. They all had one common factor – Vincent. Every time she found herself laughing or smiling, he was somewhere nearby. Every time she could remember feeling at home, even while being so far from it, was when she was with Vincent. Then she remembered him in her arms, bloody and silently, and herself thinking that he'd die because of her. The pain was too much. The source was too deep.

"What do you want from me?" she cried, startling him. "What?"

Vincent looked down at Catherine in disbelief. Hadn't she been listening? All he wanted was for her to talk to him. "I want you to talk…"

"You want?" Her voice was rising rapidly. "You want? What about what I want? You want me talk. _You_ want me to admit to something _you_ think I feel. What about me? Don't I get a say in this?"

Vincent remained silent as Catherine's anger crested. Then he said the one thing he could think of to push her over the edge. "What do you want?"

Rage flared behind her hazel eyes.

"I want you to let me go. I want you to stop asking me to talk about this stuff!" She ripped her hands from his and shoved him hard in the chest. Vincent stepped back in response.

"I don't want to remember this. I don't want to remember that night. I don't want to remember them. Do you understand? You want to remember it, but I don't!" She was breathing hard and the words she held in for so long began to leak out of their own accord as her anger grew.

"I don't want that night to have happened. I want Sabrina to still be here. I want Eric to be off with his family somewhere and Wade to be back on his ranch in Kentucky! I want them to be alive and not to wonder why they died and I didn't!"

She was pacing like a wild animal, her hands running anxious fingers through her hair in haphazard patterns. Vincent couldn't help but watch her quietly as all she'd been holding in, all the words he'd wanted to hear, were being spoken.

"I'm tired of dreaming about dead people. I'm tired of seeing them coming after me and blaming me for why they were lost. I'm tired of seeing my friends die over and over again and not being able to do anything about it, and having no one to tell. I'm tired of feeling like I'm slowly going insane on the inside and somehow maintaining the pretence that I'm okay. I'm tired of cold sweats and sleepless nights because of that _one _night."

Her chest felt as if it would burst but she couldn't stop now.

"I haven't had a boyfriend in years. Did you know that? I'm too afraid he'd want to stay over or want me to stay over, and that would be the night I wake up screaming, and then he'd think I'm as crazy as I feel sometimes. 'Cause that has happened to me before. It did. The one guy I dated after coming home. I scared the shit out of him one night during a nightmare. He tried to be nice about it, but the look on his face…I couldn't stand it. I broke up with him. I don't want anyone to think I'm crazy. I'm not! And I don't want them to look at me that way. I don't ever want to see that look again on the faces of the people I care about. I don't want to be that person! I don't want to be the broken mess in the corner that everyone talks about in whispers, and always when she's not around. I don't want to talk about that night!"

Catherine had finally stopped moving. She stared at Vincent who stood motionless across from her.

"I don't want to talk about it, because it's all I ever think about. I don't want to be broken. Don't you understand? I don't want to be that."

He couldn't take his eyes off of her. There was the Catherine he knew. She was hurting and she was broken, just like him, but now she was talking and he knew she'd be alright, even if she didn't see it that way. Slowly, tentatively, he walked towards her, reaching out to smooth her hair against her head as her fingers had made a mess of it. She closed her eyes at his touch.

Catherine hadn't meant to say all of that, but curiously, now that it was out, she felt strangely lighter.

She didn't feel the urge to run as Vincent moved towards her, and as he ran his hand through her hair she didn't recoil. His hand was comfort, and as her body released the tension she had been holding inside, she moved forward and placed her head against his chest. She could feel his arms wrap around her and his chin on top of her head. Her hands reached up and clutched the hem of his shirt, and for the first time in a long time, they both felt peace.

"Catherine," Vincent said as he stroked her hair gently. "You aren't crazy and you aren't as broken as you think. I mean look at you. You're a detective in the NYPD. People look up to you and respect you. You have your own place and take care of yourself. You aren't living in isolation on the outskirts of nowhere trying to fight the dark inside you. You're living. You've got people who love you in your life and a career. You have everything to hope for."

His words were piercing and Catherine was startled by the fact that she'd never seen it that way. She'd spent so much time and energy pretending to be normal, that she'd missed when normal had arrived in her life. Yes, she had nightmares still and intimacy issues because of them, but she had so much more than Vincent did. She felt like a silly child, complaining as she had.

"Vincent," she raised her head to look at him. She suddenly felt nervous as she realised how close his face was to hers. "I'm sorry," she continued, as she slowly pulled away from his embrace. "You must think I'm an idiot going on like that when…when you lost everybody you loved, and I still have my family." She looked at her shoes and every little dot on the floor that might be of interest, anything that would keep her from looking at his face.

He was glad she'd finally gotten all of that off of her chest. As he held her, he remembered another time when he'd held her in his arms so long ago, but suddenly the memory was broken by Catherine's gently retreat.

"I don't think you're an idiot Catherine. I think that you've been lost in trying and not realising that you don't have to try. You can just be." He took a deep breath, the urge for a drink awakening inside him, and he moved towards the fridge once more. "I envy you," he said as he reached the fridge door and pulled it open. He grabbed two more beers and took the caps off of them.

He put his bottle to his head and placed the other on the island for Catherine. The bottle was empty by the time he removed it from his lips, but he wasn't in a hurry for another. Instead, he watched Catherine carefully, wondering what was going on inside of her head.

She didn't know what to say. He envied her? On her own she couldn't understand why anyone would, but when she thought of her life through Vincent's eyes, it did seem like a pretty good place to be in comparison.

She sipped her beer, the third one in a short space of time, and she made a mental note not to have anymore.

"You don't have to live like this you know. You can have a life too if you want." She sipped her beer again, a strange nervousness in her stomach.

"It isn't that easy for me. I've tried. Believe me, I've tried, but it just never seemed to work out for me. I can't…I can't seem to get the pieces to fit together like they used to," he admitted, as slumped back onto a seat, his hands clasping together on the surface of the island in front of him.

"I can't find myself Catherine. I've tried, but I think I lost him out there. I don't know if I could ever get the man I was back."

Catherine placed her bottle on the countertop and walked around the island beside Vincent. She watched him as he slowly turned to look at her. She smiled and placed her hand against his cheek, her mother's ring reflecting the light from the nearby bulb. "You didn't lose him, Vincent. He's still in there. You're still you."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I know you, remember?" She chuckled lightly. "I know because I can see it in your eyes." Her thumb gently stroked his cheek and Vincent's head inclined towards it. "You may have lost your way, but you haven't lost yourself. If you had, I wouldn't be here. If you had, you wouldn't have kept trying with me, when I didn't give you any reason to."

Vincent considered her words. Could it be? He knew seeing her again changed something in him. He sought her out when he knew he shouldn't. After all the time that had past and the fact that she'd turned her back on him once before, he'd had every right to turn the other way, but he didn't. When he looked into her face that night at the precinct, he saw familiarity for the first time. The first time in a long time he felt like he wasn't so alone because she'd come back to get him out. He guessed she'd made him hope again, when he thought he had no hope left.

"How did you do it? How did you get to being where you are now? And how do I do that?"

His questions made her think. How to respond? She slid on to the seat beside him, her elbows coming to rest on the countertop as she thought before she spoke. Eventually, she decided to tell him the truth.

"After I came back I spent many months like a zombie in my father's house. I couldn't let go of the fact that they were dead and for whatever reason I was still alive. I felt so guilty. I felt guilty for living. I felt guilty for leaving you behind and never writing back when you wrote me," she looked at him, "but I really thought it was for the best. I was a mess. I stayed that way for a while, and then one day, I got a call from Raymond's wife. It was their daughter's birthday and she wanted to know if I would come. I wasn't going to go. I didn't think I could or should, but I did."

She took a breath.

"While I was there I looked at pictures of Raymond and his family together and I realised that I had to do something. Raymond, would never have sulked in a house and wasted his life away. He had so much to live for. I decided that day that I would live for them. I'd get myself together for them. I'd live the best life, the life they deserved, and I'd do it _for_ them. I'd make sure no one else had to hurt like his children hurt with him gone. I couldn't get myself out of it for me; I had to use them, all of them, as the rope I pulled myself out by. It worked."

Vincent's brow furrowed as he listened. She truly was amazing. He wished he had her strength.

"I'm glad it worked Catherine. I wouldn't have wanted to find you like me, after all this time."

"Vincent, at least you wanted to face what you were feeling. I just hid from it. I have been hiding from it for so long that I'd actually almost convinced myself that it didn't still affect me. Then you came back into my life and suddenly everything I was denying was there, was suddenly very real again."

"I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be. I actually feel better having said what I did earlier. I didn't think I could feel better talking about so much pain, but I do. I do feel better Vincent and it's because of you. Thank you." She smiled at him. "Ten minutes ago I wanted to slap you, but right now I'm grateful."

They laughed together, and for a moment, it was old times again.

Suddenly the tranquillity was shattered by the sound of Catherine's phone ringing. She pulled it from the clip on her waist and looked at the display. EVAN MARKS.

She looked at Vincent uncomfortably. "Excuse me one second I need to take this." She stood and walked away as she put the phone to her ear. Vincent watched her silently, his gut wrenched by some feeling of discomfort he couldn't define, as she took her call.

"Evan, hi."

_Hi Cat. I just wanted to check up on you. Make sure you got in alright. I called your apartment but there was no answer. _

"Yeah…I uh…I had to make a stop before I headed home. I haven't reached there yet."

_Oh, I see. Well, when you do get on your way I hope you get there safely._

"Thank you, that's really sweet of you to say."

_I had a really fantastic time tonight Catherine._

She looked over her shoulder nervously before answering. "So did I."

_Is something wrong? You sound strange._

"No. Nothing. I'm just fine. Umm, can I call you back when I get home? I'm kind of in the middle of something right now and I don't want to be rude."

_Oh! Of course! I'm sorry I wasn't thinking how rude of me. Call me when you get in._

"Thanks."

_Goodnight Catherine._

"Goodnight."

Catherine turned to look at Vincent. Evan's call and brought her back to reality and the time. "Vincent," she said as she approached slowly. "I really should go. My sister will be home any minute and she'll be expecting me."

"Was that her?"

"No. No, it wasn't. It was…it was Evan. The guy I work with. He wanted to check up and see if I got home okay."

The uncomfortable look on Catherine's face was painful for him to see, but he understood. It was none of his business. He shouldn't have asked.

"Well I guess you better get going then." He begrudgingly forced himself to his feet. "I'll walk you out."

"Thanks."

The pair walked silently back to Catherine's car, neither able to define the sudden tension between them. Once there, Catherine got behind the wheel and Vincent closed her door.

"Will I see you again?" he asked as he leaned down to look into her window.

Catherine smiled. "Yes. Yes you will."

Vincent smiled back. "Goodnight Catherine.

"Goodnight Vincent."

Vincent stepped back as Catherine revved the engine and the car began to move. He watched the car go out of sight before he walked back inside.

He'd see her again.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

Hey everyone! I am catching on BATB episodes. Two more to go!

Cat and Vincent consummated their relationship! I am overjoyed that they seem to finally be getting somewhere. It was nice to have some romance appear from all the angst and obstacles.

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. It was really engaging to write.

Welcome to my new readers and thank you to those of you who chose to leave a review. I appreciate and love them all. Makes writing even more fun to hear what you guys think of the story.

I absolutely adore the song for this chapter. I've listened to it so many times. It's beautifully sad and yet hopeful, just like Vincent and Catherine. Here is the song for this chapter watch?v=HJEvHtfCtIY - St Christopher by Michael Logen. Youtube is your friend.

I apologise if you all got excited by yesterday's notification and expected a new chapter. I made a correction to chapter six and the notification was sent on the re-upload.

Please forgive any typos.

See you next chapter!


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